#and Carla has 0 character so i gotta do all the hard work of making one up

[believerindaydreams]

I was not expecting to channel Tuco Ramirez energies into a young pregnant hatmaker but Carla has very promptly become the sardonic loveable glue in this ongoing ball of poly!energies

This'll all show up on a03, properly edited. Eventually.

Into the fire, part 3

"He's scared stiff," Carla says, looking at Arcade sleep. "I mean, literally stiff. Look at how tightly his hands are clenched."

She fluffs a pillow to put under his head and I'm falling in love with her all over again, just to see her. That calm, sure way she moves, the sparkle of earrings she ground herself from broken beer bottles. Utter self-confidence wrapped in a hand-knit shawl.

"He's not as important as you. Nobody could be."

She snorts. It's cute. "You keep thinking you need to surrender something for me. That's not true and it never has been."

"Might be this time. Uh- we weren't planning to stay in the Mojave. What with him both of us being marked by Legion assassins, a friend of ours was gonna help us get out."

"Ooh. Friend friend, or-" She gestures, disgracefully. Makes me bark with laughter.

"No. Dyed in the wool lesbian. On the outs with the Brotherhood...she says she can get us cross-country. I don't know if it's by Vertibird or what, but if she says she can do it, she can."

"Are you sure she's trustworthy?" Hell, just the way she wrinkles her nose half kills me. Manny used to tease me about the way I'd keep on about her.

That was before he met her, though. "Yeah. If she wanted us dead, she had plenty of chances she didn't take. And we didn't tell her anything about...you know."

"I still say we need a better way to refer to that." A big smile appears. "Maybe we could say baby names. That's personal but not strange in a conversation."

I run my hands along the inviting bump of dress; she's pretty far along now. "What happens when the baby's born, though?"

"We can say we're planning for the next one." She laughs, pins my arms back in a bear hug; and I don't mind a bit. "But hey. If you were planning to go, let's go. God knows I'm hardly stuck on this two-bit town."

Whatever that means. Her Vault had some funny expressions. "I'd like to say it'd be safer to stay put...but honestly, it wouldn't be. Not while I'm still here."

"And I am not letting you wander off without me," Carla says, cupping my chin in her hands. "Bad things will happen. I want you where I can see you."

"...okay. Then I guess we'd better pack. Your sewing machine is under the bed."

"Not anymore," Carla says, tapping a footlocker with her bare toes. "Manny fetched it for me, all the way to Arizona and back."

"Guess I wasn't up to much compared to him, was I."

"Listen," Carla says, her small face suddenly turning intensely serious. "You're here, I'm here, Manny is here. And your new boyfriend. We're all alive, that's what matters."

She makes me blush, sometimes; and it doesn't help when Manny comes out of the bath, drying his hair with a towel and butt naked otherwise.

"Damn. Your Arcade looks cute curled up like that."

"He says it's a habit. Bedrolls aren't ever long enough for him."

"I can fix that with my magic sewing machine," Carla says, grinning dryly. "And I'll make him a hat. That's an important order of business."

"Don't know what I did, to deserve you two...look. You're sure you're okay, him coming along?"

"Would you be here if he hadn't helped you?"

"...no."

"Then let's bring him," Carla says conclusively.

"If it's good enough for your wife," Manny says with a wink, "it's good enough for me. Besides. That ass."

"Definitely one of the more shapely asses populating this wasteland," Carla agrees, straight faced.

"Fuck...you two don't talk about me that way when I'm asleep, do you?"

Manny gives me a patient look. "Don't be stupid, Boone."

"Huh."

"Of course we do."

***

It's ridiculously late by the time Arcade wakes up; and he has a pretty good idea why. There's a part of him that never quite feels safe falling asleep, without the hum of conversation and a trustworthy guard around; and he hasn't really had that since the Old Mormon Fort.

(Avoided going places for exactly that reason, if he's being honest. He's still never seen the Strip.)

He looks at the Sierra armor, frowns, puts on light doctor fatigues instead. It's hot already, that's a fair excuse.

Manny's asleep on a spare mattress, but there's no sign of the other two. He heads out and finds Carla cooking at the motel campfire, a tired Boone besides her.

"Oh good," she says when he approaches, poking her husband. "Boone, go to bed. Someone else is here to play bodyguard."

"Mmm...'s Manny?"

"No, it's Arcade. Go to bed."

He grunts and goes, slightly to Arcade's surprise. Carla looks after him fondly.

"They always were a little paranoid, even when we thought Novac was safe. And it wasn't really good for them, being on opposite shifts...they missed each other." She shoves beans around in a cast iron pan, takes the lid off a milk crate filled with tortillas. "Would you enjoy a burrito for breakfast? Or I can just give you some caps to buy from Cliff, if pre-war food's more your thing."

Right. After being taken as a slave and then dumped into a pre-war casino he is in fact broke right now, at least until he and Boone split the pre-war money stashed in the room. "Burritos sound fine. Trust me, you don't have the luxury of choosiness at the Old Mormon Fort, it's too chaotic."

"Sounds terrible. But then I'm a luxury hatmaker and I enjoy what I do, I'm probably the last person who'd understand charitable impulses." She places a tortilla on a grill to warm. "It did seem simpler in the vault, when we used lotteries and left morality out of it...my other vices include overpacking, an impatience with village idiots who think that three cornfields equal New Vegas, and I will bite you if you hurt Boone or Manny. Hard. Just getting that out of the way upfront."

"Ah." He's been expecting something like this conversation, but had rather expected he'd have to go first. "Um. I'm a poor liar, despite being privy to more secrets than I ever wanted to know. I seem to have mislaid an inherent pacifism in favor of wanting to shoot any Legionary I see, which despite Boone's opinion I can't really see as an improvement. And despite my ostensible position with the Followers, my medical capabilities leave almost as much to be desired as my bedside manner."

"You seemed to handle it well when my husband passed out."

"Battlefield medicine is one of the things I can do, yes. Along with making broc flowers grow anywhere and boiling homemade bagels."

" ...actual bagels? You're hired. Damn shame no NCR caravan imports lox yet, Boone took me to Shady Sands for our honeymoon and that's the only time I've had it...do you want to make bagels? Do you need ingredients?"

"Uh. I would need to buy a few things, yes, and it would take time to grow a new culture." He thinks with a mild pang of the last sourdough he had going, left unattended in a Followers tent. Hopefully someone found it before it started to smell. "What I mostly did for the Followers was garden, actually. We've figured out ways to emulate stimpaks with herbs, but they always put the subject in a fever, and there are ailments that's contra-indicated for. And of course nobody wants that on a battlefield...except the Legion, apparently, they don't seem to care."

"A crafter rather than a soldier. I'm not outnumbered anymore, that's great news." She has buck teeth and it shows when she smiles. "Honestly, I've had to become a regular Crusoe just because the boys aren't. Want them to turn any kind of ammunition into any other kind, they'll do that for you. Anything else, it's strictly DIY." She forks a piping hot burrito onto a plate, hands it to him. "There's sour yoghurt in the fridge if you prefer topping."

"Mmm...this is fine." Better than fine, actually, there's grilled iguana in the mix and a hint of jalapeno. "You've read Crusoe?"

"Oh, we had education machines in the vault, they worked great. Mr Gutsy reading your ABCs to you and blasting radroaches...we were happy." She starts on her own burrito, looking a little pensive. "I'll never forgive Mr House for that, never. Half the kids my age ended up in the Gomorrah turning tricks for sleazeballs, a lot of the others signed up for the NCR and died right away at Hoover Dam...there was a rumor going around," Carla says, a little vicious now. "That House cut a deal with the NCR, so many warm bodies in exchange for not appropriating the Strip. I'd believe it, but then I'd believe anything of the bastard."

Arcade nods, mentally notes one more vice: Carla, for all her sunny disposition, certainly can hold a grudge.

But then, she is Boone's wife; not entirely surprising. "So you got to Novac and hoped it would be home sweet home?"

"If such a place exists, it isn't here," Carla says; and violently pokes out the fire.