#butch/m!lw

[heysoup]

Fluffy February Day 1 - Fishing

Howdy folks! I’m taking part in the Fallout Fluffy February prompt list this month, hosted by @fluffyfebruary

Every day of this month I’ll be posting my finished prompts under the community tag #fluffyfebruary and on my own blog as #fluffyfeb. I’ll also be cross posting to Ao3, which I’ll link to in each post - so feel free to follow me over there, too!

Chapter 1: A Fisher of Men

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Jamie takes Butch out on the Potomac for a fishing trip in the same spot his father had taken him a year prior. What seems to be an uneventful few hours turns into anything but when they find a monster on the other end of their line. Takes place after the events of Broken Steel.

Ao3 Link

“This is fucking boring.”

Jamie shoots Butch an irritated look from where he’s sitting across from the other man in the canoe, his brows drawn together as he tries his damnedest to untangle his fishing line from the third piece of driftwood he’s ‘caught’ that day.

“No shit,” he grumbles, spitting out some mud as he tries to break the line off the wood with his teeth. He lets out a frustrated huff, gripping his rod in both hands as he raises it up and fights the urge to just chuck the whole damn thing into the Potomac. He hears Butch snicker, and he whips his head up.

“You’re like a goddamn feral,” Butch teases with a laugh, reaching over and snatching the rod from Jamie’s grip. He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his switchblade, flicking it open and carefully beginning to cut the line away from where it’s tangled in the driftwood to try and save as much of it as he can.

He kicks his boots playfully against Jamie’s sneakers, noticing how the canvas high-tops are completely soaked through from the puddle of water they’d managed to slosh into the canoe earlier as they tried ungracefully to board it from the shore. He just shakes his head, a smile on his face, knowing that if he brings up the topic of appropriate footwear to the younger man it’ll just earn him a bruised shoulder.

“This was supposed to be like… meditative or some shit,” Jamie says with a sigh. He rubs his hands over his freckled face and ruffles some of the dust out of his sun-warmed hair. Butch just gives him an incredulous look.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” He finishes cutting the driftwood free and tosses it behind him into their small pile of ‘catches’ – which is really just a collection of junk at this point – before reattaching the hook and bobber and handing the rod back to the other man. He leans over and grabs his own fishing pole, squinting against the reflective ripples in the water to check on his bobber. Still absolutely no bites.

Jamie shrugs, suddenly looking a little bashful. “I dunno,” he admits. He reaches back into the salvaged can of cram they were using as bait, tears a chunk out, and works on preparing his hook again. Not like it matters much, he tells himself. He can continue to go through the motions perfectly and not catch a single thing. A little bit like everything else in his life, he thinks bitterly. His fucking bad luck.

After a moment of silence, Jamie continues. “Apparently my family came from a long line of fishermen on my dad’s side. He passed down some stories about it. Told me they were tradition or something.” Jamie shrugs. “Anyway, he taught me that you were s’posed to reflect on yourself out here. Get some peace and quiet.” Jamie finally says. He sucks the excess cram off his fingers, his tongue burning at the sudden saltiness, and casts his line out again, his bobber floating a few feet from Butch’s. Butch looks up at him, snapped out of his own thoughts.

“Huh… like, Wasteland fisherman?” Butch asks, deliberately choosing not to tell him how he thinks the whole ‘peace and quiet’ schtick is a load of brahmin shit and instead focusing on the first part of what he said. He’s always intrigued whenever Jamie tells him about his family, at least after they’d learned that he wasn’t born in the vault. The idea of generations of Arroyo’s managing to survive out here long enough to pop out the rascally kid he sits across from kind of amazes him. He sets his fishing pole back down against the side of the canoe, sure that it would be fine – he hasn’t gotten a single nibble in the past three hours.

“Nah. I’m sure some of them might’ve been, but we don’t really know much about closer generations of my family. We only really knew about some of my prewar family – something about some records my dad’s dad had kept on his terminals after searching our surname through databases in some place that used to process immigrations, or some shit. The occupation listed there was fisherman, apparently.” Jamie finishes and Butch hums thoughtfully, trying to imagine what Jamie’s granddad might have looked like.

Jamie winces when he thinks of his dad and has to shake the thoughts from his head. As if his face reflecting back at him from the clear surface of the clean water isn’t enough of a reminder of what he’s lost of his family and himself to of Project Purity – he looks like his own father’s ghost and even carries his name.

Butch’s fishing pole snapping against the side of the boat brings him back out of his thoughts, and he flinches back away from the canoe’s edge, the quick motion causing him to almost tumble out the other side as the boat sways dangerously.

“I got one!” Butch practically shouts and lunges for the pole, straddling the seat of the canoe and bracing his legs against the floor as he begins an awkward tug-of-war match with whatever is on the other end of his line. Jamie perks up with a huge grin on his face, all thoughts of his troubles momentarily forgotten, and hovers over Butch nervously.

“Make sure you don’t reel in when he’s pulling on the line! And try to give it some slack!” Jamie parrots what his father had taught him on their one and only fishing trip in the Wastes months back and digs around in their mess of a canoe for the rickety net they brought with them. Butch just gives an annoyed grunt, his face crinkled in concentration as he pulls on the line.

“This bastard is fuckin’ heavy!” He complains, giving the rod a yank that rocks their canoe again. Whatever they have hooked is pulling them ever so slightly to the opposite shore and splashing like crazy beneath the water.

“Scoot,” Jamie orders. He tosses the net aside – it’s obvious that whatever’s on the other side of the line won’t fit in it now - and moves on unsteady legs to sit behind Butch, reaching his arms around the other man’s waist and grabbing the fishing pole to help him pull. What the hell are they dealing with here?

By the time they begin to make some progress in reeling the fish in, they’re about halfway to the shore and completely out of breath. Butch laughs hysterically between pulls, his eyes squeezed shut in glee, and Jamie can’t help but laugh in return. His palms are sweaty, his white-knuckle grip on the fishing pole beginning to slip.

“Is it trying to pull us out of the water?!” Butch says suddenly, elbowing Jamie to look at the swiftly approaching shore. They’re hauling ass at this point, almost as if… whatever they hooked had suddenly caught some footing in the shallower water. Jamie’s eyes widen and he immediately lets go of the pole to root around in their bags. As he does, Butch careens forward from the sudden lack of support and just barely catches himself with his elbows against the edge of the canoe. He curses, “CHRIST, Nosebleed! Some warning next time!”

Jamie has only just gotten his hands on Butch’s shotgun when they finally catch a glimpse of their ‘fish’ as it breaks the surface of the water. At this point, they’ve reeled it in pretty close and the wake left behind the huge creature emerging from the stagnant part of the river capsizes their canoe just as they crash into the sandy shore.

With a chorus of yells both men topple over into the shallows. Jamie squeezes his eyes shut and lands on his back with a thud, his arms stretched up over his head holding the shotgun out of the river. The water feels like a cold slap to his face, and he comes back up gasping for air. He looks over to where Butch has landed hard on his ass, noting that the fishing pole is being tugged out of his hands and quickly away from him. He looks and sees the fruits of their labor – an albino Mirelurk with the fishing line wrapped around one claw.

“MIRELURK!” Butch yells, scrambling to his feet and running over to Jamie. He pulls the other man up and grabs the shotgun from him just as the Mirelurk turns toward them and begins clambering over the old canoe that groans and splinters beneath its weight.

“Shoot it! Shoot it!” Jamie practically shrieks and pushes against Butch’s arm, urging him to hurry when the Mirelurk picks up speed and barrels toward them. Butch nods and fights the urge to run, taking a breath and bracing for the recoil as he lines up his shot. Jamie flinches when he hears the crack! of the rounds exploding from the gun and shattering the vulnerable part of the Mirelurk’s fragile front shell. His ears ring from the close proximity of the shot and he grimaces, about to cover them until he realizes the monster is still running full speed toward them. Shit!

He grabs Butch and tackles him to the ground, shoving them out of the way as the huge, mutated crab stumbles past them at an alarming speed and crashes hard into the shore. It lies there face-first in a mound in the sand and they watch it with wild eyes from their position on the ground, ready to book it at any hint of movement, but it’s motionless and quiet – dead.

Jamie rolls off of Butch and flops down next to him, both of them looking up at the endless expanse of bright blue sky as they struggle to catch their breaths.

“Still think fishing is boring?” Jamie snaps and Butch begins to laugh again, the sound starting as a snort and bubbling slowly from his chest before he’s full-on wheezing with laughter. Jamie sits up and looks down at him like he’s insane.

“What about this was funny?!” He asks, shaking Butch’s shoulder. He can’t help but return the grin, though. Seeing Butch happy always manages to make him smile. Butch wipes his hand down his face as he sits up, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder and hopping to his feet. He reaches down to pull Jamie up with him, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

Jamie’s ears suddenly feel hot as he watches Butch, noticing the endearing gap between his two front teeth and the splash of sun freckles over his now sand-dusted face. He swallows, his heart racing. “What?” He repeats again, his throat dry.

“I caught a motherfucking fish.” Butch beams even more and looks incredibly proud of himself as they turn and walk over to his ‘catch.’ He kicks it with the toe of his boot a few times just to ease his own worries of it springing back to life.

“It’s not a fish! It’s a crab, they’re different.” Jamie argues and crouches down, grabbing the edge of the Mirelurk’s shell with Butch as they flip it over with a heave. Jamie doesn’t mention that technically he did catch it with a fishing pole, and that technically they are going to have it for dinner. He doesn’t want to give Butch the satisfaction, especially considering the only thing he got out of this trip is his collection of stones and driftwood that was currently crushed under their broken canoe.

“It counts.” Butch says, the grin still plastered on his face. He pulls a combat knife out of a holster on his belt and settles down on his knees in the sand, tapping the sharp edge of it against the shell. “Look at this bad boy. You ever see a white one before?”

“It’s an albino, I guess.” Jamie says, leaning close to inspect it. He lifts the claw that’s tangled in their fishing line. “What a mess, we aren’t salvaging this.” He drops it back into the sand with a thud.

“The fuck’s an albino?” Butch asks as he cuts into their prize, grimacing and holding back a gag as he begins to butcher it. Mirelurk is good meat, but it reeks when it’s fresh.

“You know, like that one story Brotch made us read in like 8th grade, Moby Dick? It was about that sea captain and the giant albino whale.” Jamie snickers and walks the few paces back to their canoe. He flips it right-side-up with some effort and drags their valuables out of the muddy water, clicking his tongue in disappointment when he notices their bags are completely soaked through. “You’re lucky he didn’t eat your leg.” He teases.

Butch looks back at him and pouts, blowing a messy curl of his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, I never read anything ol’ Brotch assigned. Waste of time. Like it would’ve taught me anything useful out here.” He grumbles.

Jamie laughs and drops their stuff next to a rock outcropping near their canoe. It looks like it would provide some decent shelter against the wind and by the looks of their soaking clothes and supplies, they’ll have to stay the night unless they want to catch hypothermia. “Maybe it could’ve taught ya how to catch a real fish.”

“It still counts as a catch!” Butch whines.

“It’s not a fish.” Jamie shoots back in a sing-song voice, biting his tongue to hold back the huge grin that threatens to break through. Butch jumps up from what he’s doing and turns to him, his face red, but mirroring the same smile that Jamie is trying so hard to hold back.

“It. Counts.” Butch grits between clenched teeth puts his combat knife away, buttoning the sheathe into place against his hip. They stare at each other for a moment, their eyes locked in a staring match. Jamie’s grin finally breaks free.

“Does no-“he cuts himself off with a yelp as Butch lunges for him playfully. He laughs so hard he thinks his chest might burst as he takes off in a run down the beach, Butch hot on his heels as he begins to chase him.

He knows Butch’s legs are much longer than his, but he can hold his own – at least for a little while. And even though the inevitable ending is Butch catching him in a tackle, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it. It’s something they’ve done since they were boys stumbling around in the grey fluorescence of the vault, constantly finding their way back to each other like it was fate, and it feels like home.

[thewolfamongussy]

as requested by anon

[libertybri]

do you think you could write the fallout 3 companions reacting to m!lw coming out as bi? (unless you don’t think there’d be much difference between that one and the gay one, idk lol) or a fallout 4 version of that?

I can definitely change it up a bit for the fo3 companions! I can also do a fo4 version later on as well!

Butch:

No-affinity companion-

“As if gettin’ all the girls wasn’t enough!” He comes off quite jealous of Lone’s abilities to one, know who they are, and two, get both girls and guys like it’s nobody’s business.

Crushing companion-

“It’d be kinda awkward if ya weren’t, don’t ya think?” He definitely has been flirting nonstop with Lone only on the assumption he also liked men, luckily enough for himself, Lone proved his assumption to be right.

Amata:

No-affinity companion-

“Well, duh. I think, as your best friend, I can pick up on your signals. You’ve been eyeing Freddie a lot lately and I’m not stupid.” She seems a bit offended that it took Lone so long to actually tell her as she’s his best friend, but she doesn’t care either way.

Crushing companion-

“Oh… is there someone in particular you have your eyes on?” She can’t help but to come off a bit jealous of whoever made Lone come to this realization, even if it isn’t newfound. The way she sees it, she only now has more competition to win him over.

Charon:

No-affinity companion-

“And I’m a ghoul.” He thinks there’s more important things to worry about.

Crushing companion-

“There a reason you’re telling me this?” He doesn’t mean to come off so harsh, only figuring that Lone was telling him this for a very specific reason- that being that he was interested in him.

Gob:

No-affinity companion-

“Well, aren’t you generous, giving everyone a chance.” He thinks it’s quite funny, seeing as many people of different genders admire and love Lone, and he just gave everyone an opportunity without even knowing it.

Crushing companion-

“Do you like ghouls too, or is there another term for that?” He tries to play it off as curiosity, but blatantly reveals his crush by asking this.

Sarah Lyons:

No-affinity companion-

“Well, alright.” She’s very neutral on the subject, so long as Lone remained good ole’ Lone, she could care less about her friend’s dating preferences.

Crushing companion-

“Oh… are you seeing anyone now?” She feels prone to question Lone’s dating life more, since he was so willing to tell her this in the first place. It can definitely be related to a bit of jealousy she holds for him.

Clover:

No-affinity companion-

“Yeah? There’s just something about getting it on with the same gender. I just can’t quite put my finger in- on it.” She’s quick with a silly one, making the scene even more awkward for Lone if it wasn’t already.

Crushing companion-

“Is that so? Ever thought of a threesome? That could be a fun experience.” Lone’s confession only gives her more ideas for fun ways to exploit her crush on him.

Jericho:

No-affinity companion-

“Women ain’t enough for ya?” He doesn’t mean to offend, or he does, he really just doesn’t really care.

Crushing companion-

“We could get some chick involved if you’re interested in a three-way.” Much like Clover, Lone’s confession urges Jericho to escalate the situation into something it didn’t really need to be, but he sees no issue with it.

[wondersed]

-- if anybody would be interested in doing a 1x1 discord rp between Butch/M!LW post fallout 3?

I could play either. I have no preference.

be over 20 please

it's not going to be centered around smut tho it could happen

I will be making a server on discord for us because that's always really fun

SO if you are interested please message me, or if you're shy like this post, and we'll chat.

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

FILL HOLES WITH MORE CEMENT, a m!lw/charon college AU (chapter 5, 8k~ words, T)

It’s been dark out for a few hours by the time they venture outside, Adam, Butch and Amata. The air is cold and wet, and when Adam inhales a gulp of a breath it feels sharp in his throat. There’s no clouds in the sky for snow, but it still feels like it should be, the moon looming bright and large overhead, the grass starry with frost. Adam hides the thirty pack of Gamma Gulp Ice cradled underneath his jacket, looking eight months along with the world’s squarest baby. He almost drops it twice as they make their way down the hill towards the shuttle stop, Butch leading the way, and Amata bringing up the rear in a pair of heels.

The university shuttle pulls up five minutes late, warm air gushing out to hit them as the door creaked open. The driver couldn’t give less of a shit, a nightkin sitting uncomfortably hunched in a too-small seat, but Adam is still sweating as he holds the box to his body, even though its fridge-cold through the thin layer of his t-shirt. Amata leads the way to the very back, and they all cram in together in the last seat, with Adam in the middle. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding when the shuttle lights dim.

(READ MORE!) (likes are nice but comments + reblogs are amazing!) (Ko-Fi)

[mensajeroseis]

completely unrelated but do ppl actually think butch is straight??? i saw a post saying hes straight because hes a greaser (oh, hunny,,) and i am filled with rage

yeah of course they do, fandoms operate on the majority straight and cis (and white) standard. because that’s how media is, unfortunately. you can do a comparison of butch/f-lw fics to butch/m-lw fics on ao3, and see how skewed it is, the latter having roughly 2/3 less of content.

also given that the biggest “greaser” movie is in fact Grease, it’s not surprising people are going to view that subset of culture as “straight and macho” (despite that one scene...) but you know look at other media like The Outsiders that has a much more complex take on the culture and shows non straight interpretation to it. (no matter what s.e hinton says fuk that clown) 

idk, im already disillusioned with fandom. preemptively, i already know how they’re going to treat characters, new or old. i know that majority of online spaces are homophobic, transphobic, and racist. so like, it’s not surprising to me. i don’t mean to be callous or come off that way, but don’t put any serious anger towards it. you can just block people and move on, and create a gay niche like i have lol

[a-moved]

ship breakdown: butch and lw, cullen and inq, zevran and warden

WOAH these r a lot thank u so much!!!! (im gunna do this with my kids and not in general bc yknow…. everyone has different hcs)

also behind a cut bc it’s very, very long

BUTCH & LW

i dont have any lw who’s w him :c

CULLEN & REGAN

ah yes dragon age..... haven’t heard that name in a while

How did they they meet?

O͞Ń̤͚̥͉̯̳͙ ̷̼̱͈̱̝T̡̫̣͈̞͚͎H͙̞E̫̘̯ ̘̝̰͚͈B̹̘̫̮̖͡ͅA͚̼̲͜T̹͈͘T̯͟L͟E͕͙͕͙̘̟̠F̨͇̙̱̦͔IE̪̩̲̹ͅͅḺ̡̮D̩̘͎̠̝̜̘͟

Who developed romantic feelings first?

hmm probably Cullen… Regan liked the whole “knight in shining armor” impression she got from the beginning & flirted w him… a lot…. but only realized she had a lil crush on him much later lol (and surpressed the shit ouf it)

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

i don’t think anyone in particular “cares” that much about them, vivienne asked how they’re doing once but i think that’s it lol

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

ok canonically it was the battlements smooch n im sticking with this bUT there was one time Regan was about to get tf out n cullen grabbed her arm n there was aN ALMOST KISS but cullen chickened out bc it was inappropriate to try n kiss his boss and she probably didn’t like him like that anyway  h a (according to him)

Who confessed their feelings first?

in the game it was regan n i’m sticking to it bc i think cullen is the kinda guy who would just eat up his feelings for someone so he wouldn’t embarrass himself lol

What was their first official date?

they went to that lil skyhold tavern together and held hands under the table bc they thought they were sneaky n no one would notice

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

not really into it unless they’re really bored and have nothing else to do

What do they do in their down time?

HONESTLY just chilling/jussst doing normal stuff… regan likes going out sometimes and meeting people but they both work a lot so they’re grateful for any time they have so most of the time they just read a really awful book for fun or something

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

Cullen’s parents are ded so no meeting (regan ahs to meet his siblings one day and its hell bc they all look the same and she cant tell them apart)

Regan’s parents love Cullen tho, she introduced them during their visit to skyhold.... Regan’s dad is especially fond of him, the only thing that really puts him off is his lack of a title or anything 

Which one is more easily made jealous?

h m m m m  both of them the same, regan just shows it more and gets clingy, cullen is just like.. “this is fine : )”

Are they hand holders?

dude of course i love handholding...... hand hold for everyone

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

see: desk scene

Who tops?

regan lol

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

they have servants who cook/shop for them, they did try cooking for each other but that didn’t go well lol

Who proposes?

accoriding to the trespasser dlc that i didn’t play it’s cullen 

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

do bachelor parties even exist in thedas idk 

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

h m m idk if cullen really has a lot of friends so the best man is a mystery but the maid of honor is most likely either viv or josie

Big Ceremony or Small?

BIG, cullen would probably prefer a really tiny ceremony but regan (and her fam lets b real) insist they throw a big event trespasser who?

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?  

they’re probably to busy to have honeymoon but if it was possible, eithersomewhere nice and warm at the beach or somewhere in a small idyllic village in ferelden 

Do they have children? How many?

YE a boy and a girl but i haven’t decided on their names yet lmao

Zevvo/warden

ok since i’m having major name finding issues w my zevmancing warden i’ll just call her amell for this bc... i romanced him with an amell lol

How did they they meet?

it was very romantic, zev tried to kill the warden and their group uwu

Who developed romantic feelings first?

both around the same time, zev just tried to brush it off and realized it later

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

probably Leliana

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances

outside a tavern in a random village they were staying in for the night lol.. it was a kinda warm night (or as warm as it gets in ferelden) n they just sat outside and kept talking even tho everyone else was inside already and zev asked if he could kiss her A W

Who confessed their feelings first?

amell, zev was just like “h a me in love??? what are u talking about im not :)))))))” for a long time

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

i feel like they’d try it just for fun but neither has any strong feelings about it

What do they do in their down time?

most of their quality time(tm) just consists of just chilling and talking bc honestly??? i feel like neither of them can ever shut up. plus zevran has a bunch of intriguing stories that amell loves hearing over and over

Zev also loves watching amell doing her lil plant hobby, he has no idea what she’s doing but it makes her happy lol

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

zev’s parents are dead and Amell’s are....... god knows where

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

uh this is hard bc zev is used to antivan food where they actually use spices, while amell just had very bland fereldan food all her life so it’s..... hard

Are they hand holders?

in this house we love and appreciate hand holding

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

ok surprisingly it’s very far into their relationship, they actually date for a few months before sleeping together for the first time (we ignore the canon). i haven’t thought about the circumstances yet tho

Who tops?

usually zev.... they switch around sometimes but in general its mostly him

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

mostly zev, cooking isn’t really one of amell’s strengths lol

Who proposes?

ZEV

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

none

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

most of their friends live somewhere else by the time they get married but estella is the maid of honor (ye that merged canon is a thing) and the best man is............... no idea, who are zevs friends...

Big Ceremony or Small?

small and they both start crying

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?  

ye, in a small cottage in antiva, somewhere at a beach

Do they have children? How many?

2 girls, lucia and caterina :’)

[no-ones-son]

5 things...

Tagged by @bexprime, thank you! ❤ I loved reading more about you. 

5 things you can find on my blog:

1.  Hope it is apparent you can find Jason Todd on my blog. 2.  Little to no original content whatsoever. 3.  Video games - Dragon Age, Final Fantasy, Yakuza, Fallout, etc. 4.  Relatable textposts I tag #/same with 5.  A FRIEND 

5 things you can find in my room:

1.  Art posters and general memorabilia on my wall 2.  Four different kylo ren plushies, let me live 3.  Two small dogs curled up in blankets and snoozing 4.  Membership card to a maid cafe?  5.  Books. Comicbooks, fanbooks, books-books.

5 things i’ve always wanted to do:

1. See a drag show 2. Study abroad in college for a semester or two 3. Become fluent in more than two languages 4. Take the 3-hour roadtrip to Goodsprings, Nevada  5. Stargazing away from the city

5 things that make me happy:

1.  Singing along loudly to Judgement karaoke mashup  2.  Giving little gifts to my friends 3.  My dogs 4.  Slowly reading through this Butch/m!LW series and loving the dynamic--good fics in general make me really happy. 5.  Nice customers and regulars at my work 

5 things on my to-do list:

1.  Order textbooks for Fall. My books are so pricey this time guh. 2.  Draft a savings budget and estimated date for my next trip to japan! 3.  Reorganize clothing drawers and get rid of stuff I don’t wear 4.  Earn my license and not let my driver’s permit expire this time. Yeah... 5.  Get more sleep (never going to get done but I can put it here to make me feel better)

5 things you may not know about me

1.  I am an adopted child, and I do not know who my father is.  2.  The inside of wrists and the veins there FREAK ME THE HECK OUT for no reason. Syringes, too. If there is a syringe in a wrist, that’s double the badwrong.  3.  I was taught sign language before I could speak and used to be really good at it as a small kid--would always send secret messages to a friend in elementary school. I have forgotten pretty much all of it now, though... 4.  Scrambled eggs without milk mixed in give me headaches (I’m running out of things). 5.  For a short time in high school, I was a foreign exchange student in Japan. The family that hosted me and I are still close.

5 tags, no pressure: @bonecharm, @baeson-todd, @majimaa, @irlbigfoot, @chillyatta, and anyone else who wants to. 

[heysoup]

Fluffy February Day 3 - Adopting an Animal

Day three of @fluffyfebruary ! This time the prompt was adopting an animal. A small warning here for some canon-typical violence. It’s not too graphic, but there’s raiders involved. Anyone who’s found Dogmeat in Fallout 3 knows how it goes.

Chapter 3: Man’s Best Friend

Pairing: Butch DeLoria/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: While trying to find somewhere to rest during the hottest part of the day, Jamie and Butch find themselves caught in the middle of a fight. It leads to them finding their new best friend, Dogmeat, and Butch later thinks it was fate as he recalls the pup being the best thing that’s happened to them in a long while.

Ao3 Link

What a piece of shit day.

It’s all Jamie can think while he and Butch trudge along the worn, cracked road back to Megaton. Their packs are heavy with loot – landmines, to be exact, that clang around disconcertingly in their bags with every step.

“Fucking Moira,” Jamie mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. The red bandana tied around his forehead only does so much, and in the midsummer heat during a particularly humid day it’s already soaked through. He’s aching for the vault’s air conditioning right about now.

“Ain’t you the one who signed us up for this?” Butch snaps, his voice laced with irritation. He turns his head and looks at Jamie from his position at point, huffing with impatience. “And catch up, will ya? The faster we move the faster we’ll get back so you can tell ‘er off or whatever you plan on doin’.”

Jamie screws his face up at Butch, almost wanting to walk even slower out of spite – until he realizes that’d just waste his time too. He hikes his heavy pack further up on his back and jogs to catch up to Butch.

As he gets closer, he can see the other man doesn’t look much better – his baby hairs are stuck against his sweat slicked skin and the beginning of a sunburn is blossoming on his already flushed face.

From the sun beating mercilessly down on them, Jamie surmises its just about midday. They’re making decent enough time despite having to take a slight detour south out of Minefield to avoid the clan of muties hunkered down in Germantown. Even taking a small break to wait out the hottest part of the day will still let them reach Megaton before dinner.

He motions for Butch to stop. The other man gives in and leans against a nearby rock with a huff.

“What’re we stoppin’ for, Nosebleed?” he asks, just a hint of exasperation present in his tone. Jamie drops his pack beside him and hops up onto the large boulder he’s leaned against. He pulls himself up with a grunt and hisses when he scrapes his knees, but he manages to make it to the top and stays low as his eyes scan the horizon.

“We’re taking a break,” he says and kicks some pebbles down at Butch when he hears the other man beginning to argue. “We have more than enough time! We’ll just find somewhere cooler and wait out the heat for a few hours – then we keep going, no problem.”

He pulls his binoculars off of his belt and wipes the dusty lenses on the hem of his t-shirt before looking through them to scout out the structure a few miles down the hill from them. It looks like a scrapyard of some type – not the most sheltered place, but there are enough piles of ruined cars and metal scrap that they can probably find some shade. There’s even a decent-sized wall flanking one end and a rickety, but intact, chain-link fence around the perimeter – not too bad for some quick shelter in case of danger or a dust storm.

“See anything worthwhile in that dump?” Jamie jumps and almost drops his binoculars off the edge of the rock and down the cliff when he hears Butch’s voice in his ear right next to him. He didn’t even notice the other man had climbed up to lay beside him.

“It’s not that bad,” he says with a click of his tongue, passing the binoculars to Butch and bringing up the maps on his Pip-Boy to calculate a rough distance between them and their destination.

Butch hums, “looks like a dump to me.” Jamie just rolls his eyes and snatches the binoculars away, ignoring Butch’s offended ‘hey!’ as he secures them on his belt and slides back down the rock to their bags.

“One man’s dump is another man’s treasure,” Jamie jokes and grabs his pack, sliding his sunglasses on and beginning their descent to the scrapyard. Butch just scoffs and follows Jamie’s path down their perch with a lot less grace and gathers his things.

“S’not even how the saying goes.”

---

Less than an hour later they’re approaching the fence to the scrapyard. It’s taller than it looked from up on the cliffs. The top of the fence is reinforced with barbed wire and every few feet there are old, rusted signs attached to the metal poles that read,

PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING

.

It’s unlikely that anyone would have access to power this far from any settlement or old city’s grid and Jamie can’t hear any buzzing, but he tosses a stone at the fence anyway just to ease his own paranoia. It bounces off without so much as a spark and Butch snorts.

“Did you really think it’d be electric? Scaredy cat!” he taunts with a grin, going up to rattle the fence. It creaks loudly under his hands and sways and Butch jumps back with a yelp, thinking it’s going to come crashing down. It stays standing, but Jamie laughs at him, nonetheless.

They continue to walk the perimeter until they reach the gate which, to their luck, is unchained and they push further in with their weapons drawn. Not too far inside the fence there’s a decent-sized shack that looks like it would make good shelter, but it’s locked so tight that even Butch can’t pick his way in. Jamie tries to pretend that doesn’t creep him out.

It’s dead silent as they make their way to the north end of the scrapyard and hit the towering wall that runs along the edge of the ruins. They have some reprieve from the overbearing heat of the sun here as the wall casts a long shadow along their path. They’re ready to rest here for a bit when a sudden shout rips through the silence and they almost shit their pants. They both dive for cover behind the husk of an old pickup truck nearby, eyes wild and chests heaving.

“I know you’re out here!” the voice shouts again, and Butch grips Jamie’s arm, tugging him closer.

“What the fuck did you do?” he whispers through gritted teeth, leaning up ever so slightly to look in the cracked driver’s mirror. It’s angled almost perfectly, and he can just make out the fragmented silhouette of someone walking along the top of the wall behind them.

“I didn’t do shit!” Jamie whispers back. The last time he had people on his tail was when Burke put that bounty on his head after he defused Megaton’s bomb and they’d solved that problem forever ago! Why did it always have to be his fault when someone was after them?

“He’s over here!” another voice calls, much closer to their position. Jamie freezes when he hears footsteps thundering their way. There’s no way that guy could have spotted them so soon, so what-?

“Jamie!” Butch hisses and interrupts his thoughts, pulling his bag off and shoving it under the truck. “Get down!” Jamie follows suit, shoving his bag and his rifle under the truck and army crawling after Butch. It’s a tight squeeze, but they fit, shoulder to shoulder long ways under the vehicle with their bags stowed under their arms.

“They aren’t after us,” Jamie breathes out in relief, tucking his sunglasses into his shirt as Butch nods and does the same.

They hold their breaths when the sound of a scuffle breaks out, then more footsteps. From their position under the truck they can just make out a group of raiders walking by, dragging their victim behind them by his arms. He’s struggling and kicking up dust, spitting curses at his attackers and they shy away from the front of the truck, lest they be seen.

They drag him behind a rusted train car a few feet away. Butch’s heart is in his throat, one hand clutching his shotgun and the other gripping the back of Jamie’s neck. The other man is practically bristling beside him.

“We have to help him!” Jamie hisses, smacking the top of his head off the bottom of the truck as he struggles to get up. Butch pulls him closer, wrapping his arm around his waist and using his weight to hold him down. Jamie and his fucking bleeding heart.

“Are you kidding me?!” Butch growls low, wincing as the sounds of the fight continue. “We’re outnumbered by fuck knows how many – at least five!” He takes Jamie’s face in his hands, who is now trembling in anger, and strokes his cheeks with his thumbs.

Jamie knows he’s right; they don’t have the firepower. They’re already low on ammo and stimpaks from dealing with that crazy old man up at Minefield and their bags full of landmines would be more harm than anything when surrounded by explosive cars. All they can do is wait.

They hold each other, hands covering their ears as they try to keep their breathing even. Eventually, it falls quiet again. After a few minutes of silence, Jamie scoots forward enough that he can peek out from under the car, his rifle in his hands. He barely takes a look around when he sees a large, grey dog charging past them, its ears flat against its head and its lips pulled back in a snarl. He yells without thinking and attracts the attention of the raider on the wall, who takes a shot at him and thankfully misses, the bullet throwing up dirt a few inches from his where his head is poking out from under the car’s bumper.

Butch grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out from under the car with him and they press against the opposite side of the vehicle, ducking away from the barrage of bullets that begin to ricochet off the ruined metal around them.

“There’s a fucking… a-a wolf or something!” Jamie blurts out, resisting the urge to look when another ruckus starts up from the direction of the train car. The dog is nowhere to be seen but given the growling and the raider’s confused shouts he guesses it made a beeline for them.

“Cool, alright.” Butch says sarcastically, counting out his ammo. “This place is so fucked.” Jamie glances in the driver’s mirror again and, seeing that the raider sniper is distracted trying to help fend the dog off his buddies, gets into position and aims his rifle. He places a well-timed shot through his scope, taking the raider down, before ducking back behind the truck. Well, there’s one taken care of.

They flinch when more gunfire rings out and they hear footsteps coming close. Butch cocks his shotgun and Jamie shoulders his rifle, his fingers twitching for the machete at his side instead.

Suddenly another raider turns the corner, face splattered with blood and eyes fogged with fear. He hasn’t even registered them yet when Jamie lunges forward and tries to cut him down with his machete. His swing is hard, but his aim is slightly off, and the raider falls back onto the ground with a screech, terrified but relatively unharmed. He aims his pistol at Jamie.

Before Butch has the time to react, the huge dog leaps over the hood of the pickup they’re sheltered behind. It doesn’t even spare a glance at them before leaping onto the downed raider with a snarl, finishing him off before he can fire a shot.

They stare at it as it turns toward them, stunned as the world goes quiet once again. Jamie notices, as it licks the blood off it’s chops, that it just begins to wag its tail and sits before them, friendly as ever.

“H-Hey, boy.” Jamie says in amazement and reaches his hand out, offering to let the dog sniff it. The dog does so happily, his tail thumping even harder against the dusty ground. He notices then that the dog’s eyes are two different colors – one a bright blue and the other a brownish green, and that he has much thicker fur than most dogs they’re used to seeing in this part of the Capital.

The dog sits up suddenly and takes off, stopping only briefly to look back at them as if it wants them to follow. Jamie and Butch glance at each other before shrugging and grabbing their packs. Stranger things have happened, they think as they follow the dog back behind the train car.

It’s a gruesome sight, so Jamie tries to ignore it, focusing instead on stepping around the dog’s mess and following it to the body of the raiders’ victim. He and Butch watch sadly as the dog nudges the trader’s body with a whine and gently pulls something out of his hands before walking back over to them. The dog drops it at their feet and Butch leans down to pick it up and inspect it closely.

“Jamie,” Butch says, holding the item out to him. His face is grim. Jamie takes it and studies it – it’s a red collar with a gold dog tag on it. Engraved carefully into the metal is the name ‘Dogmeat.’ His heart falls and he closes his fist around the collar, leaning down to pet the dog that was staring expectantly up at them.

“Well, shit.”

---

A few weeks later, Butch is walking back up the stairs to their little place in Megaton. It’s getting dark, the sun just now setting behind the hulking walls of the metal city. He’s returning from the outer gate where he was doing some trading with and catching up with Crow before the end of the day.

He shrugs his jacket off as he enters their house and slips off his boots. “I’m home!” he calls. He can’t hear Wadsworth’s usual whirring – Jamie must’ve already sent him to his pod for the night to charge. Besides the warm breeze whistling quietly through the holes in the shack walls and the quiet chirping of the crickets outside, all is quiet.

He grabs a Nuka Cola from the fridge and walks upstairs. Their bedroom door is cracked open and dim lamplight filters out into the hallway. He pushes the door open gently and peeks inside. Jamie is passed out in bed, one of his corny romance novels held loose in one hand. Curled up under his arm is Dogmeat, who’s snoring like a tugboat.

The sight of them brings a warm feeling of love to his chest so strong he almost can’t handle it. Setting his Nuka Cola down on Jamie’s desk among his many trinkets and mementos, he pulls the novel from Jamie’s hand and carefully dog-ears the page, laying it aside as well. He pulls off his shirt and flicks off the lamp before crawling into bed behind Jamie. Dogmeat wakes and opens one eye, checking on him before letting out a long sigh and going back to sleep. Butch just chuckles and places a kiss to Jamie’s temple, shuffling one arm under his pillow and wrapping the other lazily around the other man’s waist.

Finding that dog was the best thing that’s happened to them out here, Butch thinks, closing his eyes and snuggling closer to his boyfriend. He runs his fingers through the thick hair around Dogmeat’s neck as he presses small kisses to Jamie’s shoulder. They both knew a thing or two about losing people close to them, and so did Dogmeat. He supposes the three of them are meant for each other. Maybe fate does exist after all, in its own funny way.

[thewolfamongussy]

butch calling the m!lw “boy” and making me gayer than i thought i was (repost —thanks anon!)

[thepuckishrogue]

Tag game shenanigans

Tagged by: @aspiratinganxiety (thanks for the tag, sweets! I’ve been away from the internet for a bit, so it’s nice to know people were still thinking of me while I was away lol...)

Relationship Status: I’m single af and living for it. I’ve turned into a crotchety old lady that cannot be bothered with people on that level for the foreseeable future lmao...

Favorite Color: Probably black lmao. It’s just so sleek and clean and matches everything. Plus if you wear all black people tend to avoid you and I’m here for that.

Top Three Ships: Arthur Morgan/Health + Happiness (I shit you people not, a happy non-TB infested Arthur is my happy place lmao), Butch/F!LW (my Audrey, naturally), Daniel Jackson/Vala.

Lipstick or Chapstick: Chapstick. I love the look of lipstick, but it makes me paranoid af. Like is it doing something weird? Do I need to do a touch-up?? Has it somehow gotten on my teeth??? Too many things to think about and again, I’m a pissy old woman who can’t be arsed.

Last Song: “Chasing the Sun�� by Sara Bareilles.

Last Movie: I honestly can’t remember? I’ve mostly been watching TV shows as of late.

Spell Your Name with Songs:

Islands--Sara Bareilles My Moon, My Man--Feist My Girl--The Temptations Young London--Angels & Airwaves

As always if you want to do this, feel free! (and tag me so I can see ya answers, if you would!)

[heysoup]

Fluffy February Day 2 - Movie Night

Reminder to follow @fluffyfebruary ​ to see the prompt list and that I’ll be using the tags #fluffyfebruary and #fluffyfeb for these.

Continuing the fics with day two! I’m super proud of this one; It’s dripping with fluff and teenage angst. Warning for potential secondhand embarrassment - they’re both idiots in love and have no idea how to show it.

Chapter 2: Films and Fears

Pairing: Butch/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: Dealing with life in the vault can be tough, especially for an outcast like Jamie. When he befriends Butch through his G.O.A.T. assignment, however, the two make their own safe place. Butch decides to surprise him there one day with the promise of treasure, and it leads to something more than they both expect.

Ao3 Link

Jamie tosses and turns in his rat’s nest of a bed. It’s midnight – he’s too hot, the vault’s ventilation system’s groaning is echoing around him like a damn chorus, and his sheets keep scratching uncomfortably against his clammy skin. He brings his wrist close to his face to mindlessly check his Pip-Boy for the millionth time that night, his arm feeling as heavy as lead, and he squints at the fluorescent light of the screen as he taps it awake.

Though Butch showed him a few times before, it still takes him a moment to remember the right sequence of buttons to push to unlock developer’s mode and navigate to the messaging tab the other boy set up for them. It’s only been about a month since Butch found an old Pip-Boy manual in Stanley’s locker and got this trick to work, but already there’s a considerable backlog of messages between the two.

Jamie scrolls through them with the dial on his Pip-Boy, worrying the skin of his lower lip with his teeth as he reads through some of the older messages. It’s become a new habit for him on these particularly rough sleepless nights. When he’s too exhausted to write in his journal, draw, or jump around his room in an attempt to tire himself out; he talks to Butch.

If someone had told him a year ago that Butch DeLoria, his childhood bully and teenage rival, would be one of his only sources of solace these days he would have called them insane. Turns out, giving the vault’s two delinquents deadbeat jobs with no supervision and shoving them in the same closet of a studio space could make them form a pretty strange alliance. The enemy of my enemy and all of that, right?

It also doesn’t help that Amata is forever busy with her new duties as overseer’s assistant – or whatever her job title is actually called. Jamie misses her like he’s lost a part of himself, and even though he knows she’s not locked away with her father by choice he can’t help the nagging part of his brain that is convinced she abandoned him.

Butch is dealing with the same thing, though with less consequence. His fellow Tunnel Snakes are relatively busy with their new jobs – Wally as a security guard and Paul as an engineer – but they still make some time to see each other. Butch is just one of those people who needs constant attention, which is where Jamie supposes he comes in handy. He tries not to think too hard about it.

He’s is snickering to himself while he reads some messages sent a few weeks back during one of their spats, most of which were petty insults and some pretty creative curses, when a new message blips through and pulls his screen to attention.

913473: nosebleed u up?

Perfect timing, Jamie thinks, sitting up in his bed to type. The 6-digit code is what Butch called his Pip-ID – apparently every Pip-Boy comes with one coded in by default. It was weird at first, trying to memorize the numbers and calm his own paranoia at the thought of someone hacking into their conversations, but Butch said that their numbers were for their Pip-Boys alone, so Jamie trusted him. The horrible, agitated crawling under his skin that was keeping him up all night begins to fade as he replies.

604272: didja even have to ask? 913473: just say yes or no damn 604272: k. no 913473: oh fuck off

Jamie can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him, and he grins like a complete idiot down at the screen.

913473: if ur done being an ass i have somethin for us to do 913473: if u aint busy of course 913473: meet at the place? 604272: sure. be there in 10

He switches his Pip-Boy screen off and hops out of bed, stretching languorously before grabbing his jumpsuit from where he left it earlier that day in a heap on the floor. He tugs it on leg by leg and zips it up before checking himself in the mirror.

His hair is a mop of curls on his head and he does his best to smooth it down, knowing Butch will scold him for not using the correct conditioner to tame his flyaways like he showed him. The bags under his eyes are a bit darker than usual, but there’s nothing to be done about that. He shrugs to himself and turns to the door. No point in being too self-conscious about his appearance this late at night – isn’t like this is a date or anything, he tells himself.

He doesn’t bother being quiet as he leaves his room, knowing his dad would still be working at the clinic or at the very least passed out there on one of the cots. He doesn’t come home much these days.

Jamie shoves his boots on, not even bothering with socks, and peers out of the thick window into the hallway. It seems empty, so he hits the button and creeps out through the door.

The neon blue emergency lights that run along the edges of the ceiling and floor greet him when he steps out of his apartment. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and peers around the corner before continuing his path. The door closes not-so-softly behind him and he walks down the hall past the restrooms that separate his and Butch’s apartments. He stops momentarily outside the door to the DeLoria’s apartment, noticing it’s dark and quiet inside.

Butch must already be down there, Jamie thinks, picking up his pace as much as he could without making too much noise. Despite the constant creaking and rumbling of the vault’s ventilation and reactor systems the halls at night could carry quite an echo, and his boots aren’t the quietest things to sneak around in.

Patrols were lax recently but knowing his luck he’d get caught breaking curfew and would have to clean the bathrooms again. He briefly regrets not wearing socks because he refuses to take his boots off and walk barefoot on the cold steel floor, even if it is quieter.

Further down the hallway and a bit past the occupied wing of apartments, Jamie stops at the top of a short set of stairs that lead down to a small corridor with one door. A large INACCESSIBLE sign glows ominously above it, and in the corner of the hallway facing the stairwell is a single security camera. It rotates at a snail’s pace, its gears clicking audibly with every circuit it makes of the dead-end hallway.

Jamie ducks down near the wall at the top of the stairs, watching the camera as he has so many times before to study its crawling path. When Butch had discovered this place, they figured out a way to tilt the camera up ever so slightly with the handle of a broom from their shop – creating about thirty seconds of a blind spot to get them from the stairs and through the door without getting caught if they hugged the left wall.

Peering down the hallways around him one more time to make sure no patrols were coming; Jamie types a quick message into his Pip-Boy.

604272: here

He waits a few moments until he hears a couple sharp raps on the metal door down the way, telling him that Butch is there whenever he’s ready. Jamie waits a few more moments and listens to the camera click back into its blind spot before he hops down the stairs, staying low and to the left as he stalks toward the door. He hits it lightly with his palm when he gets there, and it slides open. He has just enough time to duck inside, slamming his fist on the button to shut it just as he hears the security camera restart its rotation.

“You’re still gonna act like it's some big heist no matter how many times we come down here, huh?” Jamie turns around in the darkness and is met with Butch’s grin, a bottle of beer already in one of his fists. His Pip-Boy light is on, basking them in a dim green glow.

“Keeps it interesting,” he replies, punching Butch playfully on the arm. On this side of the door is a long flight of stairs and they continue further down into the pitch darkness, hands pressing along the walls for purchase with nothing but about three feet of lighting in front of them.

The emergency lights are shut off down here, along with the security cameras – probably to save power, so Jamie turns his Pip-Boy light on as well. It’s a bit brighter, but not by much. They’ve been down here enough times by now that their bodies remember how many steps there are, but Jamie always has a nagging fear in the back of his mind that one day the staircase will just keep going forever. He shakes that thought from his head, listening to the sound of their boots stomping down the steps and focusing his gaze on Butch’s free hand as it slides against the railing.

For the past month or so this has been their escape. Butch somehow figured out how to break into the door they just passed through, and they discovered a whole wing of abandoned apartments under the ones they were currently living in. So far all they had done was clear out one room that had a ratty old couch, some blankets, a broken Nuka Cola mini-fridge, and a few wooden storage crates in it. Jamie had also rigged up a small emergency generator and they were able to find some lamps to make it a little less depressing.

Most importantly, they had booze smuggled from Butch’s mom’s liquor stash, a few cartons of cigarettes they’d traded with Stevie for some chems Jamie snuck from his dad’s clinic, their collection of comic books, and Jamie’s old BB gun for when they got bored. It’s far from perfect, but it’s space, and when you’re destined to roam the same hallways with the same people for the rest of your miserable existence – that amounts to a lot.

“So, what are we actually doing?” Jamie asks as they turn into the apartment they’d claimed as their base. Butch has the generator running and the room smells thickly of his peach pomade and cigarette smoke – he must have been down here for a few hours already.

“I,” Butch begins, stopping to pull the cork out of his new bottle of beer with his teeth before spitting it on the floor and taking a swig, “am gonna show you some treasure.” He finishes with a flourish, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and plops down onto the couch next to his discarded Tunnel Snake jacket.

Jamie snorts and pulls up a crate, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and propping his feet up. He clicks his tongue in mock annoyance when Butch’s boots crowd his own on the small surface and, in a fruitless endeavor, they battle for leg space before giving in to sharing. It’s obvious the other boy is already a bit tipsy.

“Treasure, huh? That’s cool, I guess,” Jamie snickers, snatching the bottle of beer from Butch and downing some before he could protest. It burns in his throat and brings a comforting warmth to his chest. He continues nursing the drink and settles further back into the worn corduroy couch, his posture absolutely terrible. Butch reaches for another bottle.

“Yup.” The bottle pops open and another cork joins the pile growing on the floor. Another drink and an obnoxious burp, then Butch sits forward - feet falling to the floor, his hands on his knees, and an excited light in his eyes. His leg is bouncing incessantly.

“Listen, I was going through some rooms down here and I found an old projector – like the one Brotch has?” He glances at Jamie, blue eyes a soft, dreamy color in the low light, and Jamie can’t help but gulp at the intensity he sees there. When Butch has a plan he’s excited about, he turns into a different person – like all the stress of conforming to the monotony of vault life has washed away and he’s finally allowed to be the mischievous and passionate person hiding underneath it all. Or… something like that. Jamie’s waxing poetic again, something he can’t help but do when around Butch.

“That’s pretty cool,” is all Jamie can bring himself to breathe out as he sips on his beer. He picks at the loose threads on the arm of the couch as he tries not to think about the fact that Butch had his lips on this same bottle just a few seconds ago.

Butch deflates a bit. “Pretty cool?” he mocks, leaning closer. Okay, maybe he’s more drunk than Jamie had first thought, if the redness of his cheeks were any indication.

“Nosebleed, I found full on ho-lo-disks,” Butch emphasizes, blowing a few messy curls away from his forehead. Jamie just shrugs.

“Okay?” he begins, not seeing the big deal. They already have these things in the classroom. “What’re we gonna do, watch some lectures? Don’t tell me DeLoria wants to brush up on his studying,” he taunts.

Butch just sneers at him in response, standing up and only swaying a bit – much to Jamie’s surprise. “You have no imagination, dweeb. Stay here!” And with that, he storms out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Jamie can see the green light of his Pip-Boy flash on through the window as he walks further away into the dark.

It’s a few minutes before he comes back, and Jamie can hear the ruckus he’s causing before he sees him. He’s startled out of his comfortable position on the couch and perks up. The door slides open and Butch pushes the projector into their base on its rolling cart. One of the wheels must be rusted because its screeching like a damn rat, scraping against the metal flooring as he drags it to the center of the room. He grabs an old cardboard box from the lower shelf of the cart and slides it on the floor over to Jamie with his foot before going back to set the projector up with their tangled mess of extension cords.

Jamie picks it up and grimaces at the box – it’s a little rank and it feels crusty in some spots. “This thing is probably covered in like a hundred different types of mold,” he complains.

“Didn’t give it to ya so you could judge the box!” Butch snaps, banging the top of the projector impatiently when the power flickers. “Open the damn thing.”

Jamie places the box on the couch beside him and sits up, peeling it open to peer inside. His jaw drops in amazement at the sight – more holodisks than he’s ever seen in his life, all with unique and eye-catching, full-color illustrations on the covers. He stares at Butch in disbelief and catches the other boy staring at him, an unabashed, beaming smile on his face when he sees Jamie’s reaction. When their eyes meet, Butch clears his throat and snaps his attention back to the projector, fiddling with some dials that don’t seem to change anything.

“Cool, right?” He says, his ears turning red as he dismisses his earlier excitement with a sheepish shrug.

“It’s fucking great!” Jamie laughs and begins to rummage through the box. There are real films in here, like he’s only read about in pre-war history classes or his cheesy novels. Aside from a whole slew of superhero films starring characters like The Silver Shroud and even some of Grognak the Barbarian, there are titles that look like they’re about pre-war animals in different parts of the world, some with soldiers in power armor, some ancient recordings of sports, and what looks like a few western and sci-fi films

Butch walks back over and sits beside him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and leaning in to look at the titles. Jamie’s breath hitches at his closeness and he can feel his cheeks heating up. He tries not to show it, leaning in ever so slightly to let their shoulders brush.

“You can pick first, my treat,” Butch says while gesturing to the patchwork sheet he’d hung up on the opposite wall of the small apartment – Butch must have stitched it together himself out of whatever excess fabric he found. It’s hanging a little crooked and the projector’s STAND BY image is a bit fuzzy, but a bubble of excitement forms in Jamie’s chest regardless. He doesn’t want to read too far into things, but Butch had found this and made it a surprise specifically for them to share. That made him feel a certain kind of way.

He blinks those embarrassing thoughts away and nods, his face warm. Looking over their choices carefully, he finally decides and picks the western – he always did have a fondness for the freedom that seemed to come with being a cowboy – and walks to the projector to pop it in and press play.

He half expects Butch to make fun of his choice, but the other boy is oddly quiet, carefully inspecting his fingernails as Jamie switches off the lamps and kicks off his boots before returning to sit cross-legged on the couch. Butch still hasn’t scooted further away or removed his arm from the back of the couch, so their knees bump and he can feel the warmth of Butch’s arm behind his neck and it sends prickles through his skin.

Only as the movie begins do they realize they don’t have any speakers hooked up – so it’s completely silent in the room other than the whirring of the film in the projector.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Butch sighs and shakes his head in disappointment. Jamie just laughs.

“It’s still cool,” he assures him. “They used to have silent movies all the time apparently – especially back in cowboy days. It’s authentic,” he purses his lips at the end, trying to do his best impression of Mr. Brotch. It seems to work because Butch cracks a grin at him and snorts.

“Sure, it’ll work for now, but I saw some terminals in another apartment down here. We can check for some speakers there later,” Butch says and then his playful grin becomes roguish. “Push comes to shove, we can just swipe one from upstairs. Who’d notice a missing speaker?”

Jamie just scoffs and elbows him, turning his attention back to the film as the title screen fades in and he reads, ‘High Lonesome.’ He didn’t bother to read what the film was about, but it opens with a group of people in a wagon on a vast desert plain with plateaus towering in the distance.

There isn’t too much to see at first, but one thing that sticks with him is the impossible vastness of the sky as the camera zooms out to show a wider view of the prairie they’re riding along. He’s seen pictures of the sky, sure, but something about watching the tiny silhouettes of people move around under it was chilling – it was huge and incredibly empty. He didn’t know if what he was feeling was amazement or terror.

Despite the film being in black and white, the shimmer of the sun on the horses’ flanks as they gallop is bright enough to seem real and Jamie is completely entranced as he watches. And, luckily enough, there seem to be subtitles, so they’ll still be able to understand what’s going on.

Jamie’s trance is momentarily broken when Butch leans down and grabs something from under the couch. He returns with a box of fancy lads which he presses into Jamie’s hands. Jamie mumbles his thanks, his eyes never leaving the picture as he tears into a package and shoves a whole powdery cake into his mouth.

Butch just laughs at him and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights one just as the young cowboy on screen does – much to Jamie’s delight – and they chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

They pass the snacks, beer, and smokes back and forth between each other as they watch their movies. When the western is over, Butch picks a film called ‘Teenage Caveman,’ saying that it has to be good because the cover has tits and a giant lizard monster on it. It ends up being the worst piece of garbage they’ve ever seen – and that’s saying a lot considering they’ve only seen one other film in their whole lives.

“That dude didn’t even look like a teenager! He had to be like thirty,” Jamie says, tossing the film into a box they decide to label ‘shit.’ According to Butch, they were like pioneers and had to record their findings, so not only were they watching the films, but they were sorting them from best to worst. As Butch had put it in his best overseer impression, they were doing future vault residents a great service and fulfilling their civic duty… by saving others from watching total pieces of trash.

“There wasn’t even a single boob,” Butch mopes, snubbing out the last of his cigarette in the cracked coffee mug functioning as their makeshift ashtray. “Talk about false advertising. The giant lizards were kinda cool, though.” Jamie smacks him upside the head.

“You wouldn’t know what a boob looked like if it smacked you in the face.”

“You take that back!” Butch laughs and tosses their snacks on the floor, lunging for Jamie who’s cackling just as hard. They’re fucking hammered at this point and they roll off the couch into a heap on the floor, knocking a crate over as they grapple at each other. They wrestle like this sometimes – it’s a great outlet for Jamie’s aggressive energy and, when they’re less drunk, Butch actually teaches him how to kick ass. Now, they’re just breathless laughs and fumbling hands as they scramble for purchase on the floor and try their damnedest to pin the other down.

Butch may be stronger on a normal day, but at the moment he’s piss-drunk compared to Jamie who still has a bit of his wits about him. He flips the taller boy over so quickly it’s almost comical and pins him, pressing his knees against his thighs and holding his wrists at his sides to stop him from getting up. He laughs triumphantly.

“What’s wrong, Butchie? You’ve never lost a fight so fast!” He grins down at the boy smugly but stops short when he sees the look on Butch’s face. It’s endearing how red his cheeks are, his hair a mess and his blue eyes wide. Butch just fixes him with those piercing baby blues.

“Don’t get cocky, Nosebleed. I let ya do it,” he says in a soft voice, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jamie’s mouth goes dry, his eyes fixed on Butch’s unbelievably pink lips. He hates himself for how much he wants to kiss him then and without thinking he begins to lean forward. He catches himself, though, and his thoughts have him jumping off of Butch and falling back against the couch like he’s been shocked, his chest heaving. He feels dizzy and he can still smell the earthy spice of the other boy’s aftershave enveloping him like a thick haze he can’t shake.

Butch laughs and pulls himself up into a sitting position, shooting Jamie a dazzling grin from his seat on the floor. “What’s wrong, Jamie?” Butch teases, his voice only a bit slurred and a shit-eating grin creeping its way onto his face. Hearing his name come from Butch is rare and it knocks the breath out of him. All he can do is stare.

Butch clambers ungracefully back up to the couch with him, leaning awfully close and whispering, “cat got your tongue?” His breath is warm on Jamie’s face and it smells like a mixture of smoke and alcohol, something he never thought would smell so intoxicating, but of course it does – it’s Butch.

Jamie’s heart is in his fucking throat and he can’t breathe. Butch is pressed against his side and his back is against the arm of the couch. There’s nowhere for him to escape to – not that he necessarily wants to, but he was never very good with facing his feelings. Either Butch is actively trying to flirt with him or he’s fucking around, and Jamie can’t decide which one is worse.

“You’re drunk, you idiot,” Jamie laughs weakly and goes to push Butch away by the chest but stops when he feels his heart pounding under his t-shirt. The other boy’s breath hitches and his body stiffens at Jamie’s touch, his lips parting as if he were trying to think of what to say.

“So are you,” Butch finally settles with, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Jamie’s wrist. His touch almost feels like it burns. They sit like that for a moment, staring at each other, eyes like fire.

The generator chooses that moment to shut off, leaving them in pitch darkness. Out of instinct, Jamie curls his fingers into Butch’s shirt, his ears ringing at the sudden silence in the room and his breathing becoming labored. Darkness feels suffocating to him sometimes, and this is one of those moments. It lays over them like a thick blanket, and the only thing that pulls him out of his internal panic is Butch’s free hand cupping the back of his head, fingers twining through the thick, curly hair at the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t even have time to think about what Butch might be doing before he feels the press of the other boy’s lips warm against his own. Though they’re unbelievably soft, the kiss is rushed and clumsy – desperate almost – and Jamie grunts when their teeth knock together. He wastes no time returning the kiss, though, his eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the feel of Butch’s lips against his own and the rough burn of his stubble as it brushes against his chin.

It must have just been a power surge, because suddenly the generator kicks back on and the projector screen lights up the room. Their eyes fly open and they wrench apart, still holding onto each other as if for dear life. Whatever safety they felt shrouded in the darkness is ripped away and they’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. Jamie’s breath comes out in stutters and he dares to glance up at the other boy.

Butch’s eyes are filled with a fiery heat he can’t even describe and something akin to tenderness – which is hard for him to pinpoint since he’s never been looked at like that before. He sucks in a sharp breath. For some reason, even though he’s been dreaming of this moment for months, he just feels terrified and embarrassed – like he fucked up somehow. The panic must be written clearly on his face because Butch pulls away like he’s been slapped and falls back to the other end of the couch.

“Sh-shit, I,” Butch stutters, his hand clutching his chest where Jamie’s was a moment before, “fuck, Jamie, I didn’t mean to.” His voice cracks, sounding almost pleading. Jamie doesn’t know what to say, his mouth flapping uselessly, and it’s too much for him to handle. He doesn’t understand what his problem is. Everything in his heart is telling him to leap forward and continue kissing Butch, but he’s just too fucking scared.

“It’s fine!” He practically snaps, standing up suddenly. He’s shaking and feels clammy and he’s sure he’s as pale as a ghost – is it even possible for something good to give you a panic attack?

He glances around for his boots for a moment, but it’s still too much and he can see Butch starting to reach for him with concern in his eyes. “I have to go,” he blurts out, and he turns tail and runs.

The last thing he hears before he leaves is Butch yelling his name, but he jogs up the steps in the darkness, tripping over his own feet and bruising his knees. He knows he’s acting like a child, but he can’t bring himself to care. He is absolutely not ready to face what’s happening and he needs to be alone in his room now.

When he reaches the door, he doesn’t even stop to think about the security camera on the other side, he just slams his fist on the button and rushes out and thankfully luck is on his side this time because he can hear the camera click into the end of its circuit.

He slows down when he reaches the halls, his bare feet making a lot less noise than his boots, but fuck the floor is cold and he regrets not stopping to find his shoes. Soon he reaches his apartment, and he rushes inside, thankful to see that it’s still empty. He locks himself in his own bedroom, suddenly feeling like everything is too much, and he rips his jumpsuit off, flopping onto his bed in just his tank top and boxers and pulling the covers over his head.

He wants to scream, maybe tear his hair out a little or punch the wall. He cannot believe how badly he fucked that up. He doesn’t even know what this means for their friendship – if he had tried to make a move on Butch and the other boy ran away, he would be devastated! Would Butch even want to talk to him anymore? He worries over these thoughts for a few hours until his brain feels like jelly. The last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is how his lips taste ever-so-slightly like the sweet mint chap stick Butch always carries around.

---

He wakes up later to the sound of incessant beeping coming from his wrist. He groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes and down his face. He feels like complete shit – hungover, most likely, and his head is swimming.

He looks at his Pip-Boy to check the time and realizes he’s overslept. It’s two in the afternoon and he’s late for his work assignment at the studio but if he’s being honest the thought of having to drag himself out of bed and sit in a room with Butch all day doesn’t seem as great as it used to. He can’t help it when he opens the messaging app, biting his lip as he prepares to read whatever might be there.

913473: it was a prank haha i rly got u good

That one was sent almost immediately after he’d left last night, according to the timestamp. Something about it makes his gut twist, gives him a bit of nausea. He’s not sure if he believes Butch or not. Once again, he’s not sure which is harder to deal with. Dated about an hour later there are a few more.

913473: jamie im sorry pls answer me 913473: don’t ignore me man if ur mad just come beat me up 913473: are u sleeping? damn out of all the times 913473: its k. i kno u need it. gnight

Jamie doesn’t realize he’s chewing his lip to shreds until he tastes blood, and he curses, wiping it away on the hem of his tank top. His eyes are glued to the screen, his heart thundering in his ears. Dated even later are a handful of other messages and he can tell by their contents that Butch must have kept drinking in his absence. The thought of that tugs at his heart a little – maybe he isn’t the only one who’s terrified of his own feelings and kind of a fuckup.

913473: i know ur asleeeep 913473: gdamn typing onthis shit. fcking sucks 913473: m drunk but idc. i kissed u jamie n itfucking rocked 913473: wasnt a prank. im srry. dont hate me 913473: u can hit me all u want. ill evenlet u win the fight. 913473: jsut dont hate me

Jamie groans and grabs his pillow, shoving his face into it a few times and letting out as loud of a yell as he dares. It’s not enough, but it will have to do. Breathless and flushed, he’s about to lay back down when a new message comes through and his heart leaps so high into his throat that he nearly chokes. He peeks at it over the pillow.

913473: yo you’re late dude. like super late! 913473: i figured id let u sleep off the hangover a bit but damn 913473: i aint gonna cover ur ass if the overseer comes knocking. i have enough of a headache. 913473: so get down here!!! 913473: speakin of headache i was drunk as shit last night. dont remember a thing past that crappy monster movie. so ignore whatever embarrassing crap i sent you, k? 913473: and dont tell anyone im a talkative drunk or ill pummel you, nosebleed.

Jamie looks at the messages in disbelief and flops back onto his bed, his thoughts racing. He can’t tell if Butch is lying or not – he knows even if Butch doesn’t remember there was still something different about what happened last night but fuck if he’s going to bring it up now.

He’s relieved, but also disappointed, maybe a little angry – either at himself or at Butch, he can’t tell. He’s shaking, wracked with nerves at the sudden sense that everything might change soon. He can’t handle change – can’t handle much, if he’s honest with himself, but change is the hardest of all. He curls his fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly and trying to resist the urge to pull it out in chunks. He’s losing himself in his worries again when another message notification shakes him out of it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, wishing he could rip his Pip-Boy off his arm and throw it away.

913473: NOSEBLEED GET THE FUCK TO WORK NOW 913473: its boring alone

Jamie feels like he’s actually going to tear his hair out, but he can’t help himself from laughing. He gives in and types out a quick response.

604272: for the love of GOD 604272: STFU 604272: im on my way now 604272: and i didn’t read ur stupid messages don’t worry. too many for me to care

He bites his lip again, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest as he writes out one more message.

604272: i don’t even remember much of the shitty movie lol, u know im a blackout drunk

There are a few minutes without a reply and Jamie starts to think maybe he’s fucked it up again, then more messages come through.

913473: u stupid fuckin idiot 913473: what would i do without u 913473: to pick on i mean

Jamie lets out a trembling sigh and gets out of bed, shaking himself free of his worries and tugging on his jumpsuit again. His hands are quivering, probably will be all day with the way his nerves are, but he can handle it.

It’s only as he’s going to leave does he realize he doesn’t have his shoes.

913473: i have your boots btw dumbass

Jamie is terrified of change. He’s terrified of his own emotions, especially when he can’t control them. He wishes things were simpler and he wishes he could have been born into a more agreeable body in a more agreeable time, but as he walks, shoeless, out of the apartment and to the studio space he shares with Butch, he feels a bit comforted in the fact that Butch might feel exactly the same way. Even if shit is messy and he fucks it up, Butch keeps coming back - and that’s good enough for him.

[heysoup]

Fluffy February Day 4 - Halloween

Phew! I’m a little late, but I managed to make it while the day’s still here. This is day four of @fluffyfebruary and the prompt is Halloween.

Chapter 4: I’ll Be Yours

Pairing: Butch DeLoria/Male Lone Wanderer

Summary: During a Halloween party, Susie suggests that the group of teens play spin the bottle. Jamie isn't one for parties, isn't even one for socializing if he's honest with himself, and he definitely isn't excited to play this game. But Butch has been looking at him all night, and something in his heart tells him this might be different.

Ao3 Link

“Thanks for helping, Jamie,” Amata says from where she’s perched at the top of a step ladder hanging colorful streamers along the ceiling.

Jamie smiles up at her from his own task of making Halloween-themed snacks, “of course.”

She climbs down the ladder and brushes her hands off on the pants of her vault suit, looking up at her handiwork with an approving nod. Orange and purple streamers hang in delicate loops from the ceiling. Hanging among them are dainty origami bats – all handmade by Amata and Susie. They even found some old Christmas lights and strung them up along the walls, hoping that when the main lights were turned off it would create some kind of spooky atmosphere, even if they were red and green.

They’re preparing for their first ever Halloween party as ‘adults.’ Now that everyone in their class was eighteen, Amata had finally gotten her dad to cave and allow them to throw a party at the Mack’s apartment, since it was one of the largest. How she managed to pull it off, Jamie has no idea.

He finally finishes icing the last of his ghost-shaped cookies and walks over to join her, letting out an impressed whistle. “Looks great!” he says, and she smiles at him.

Susie and Wally walk out into the living room from the hallway – they’re wearing freshly pressed vault suits that are tailored a bit closer to their bodies than the normal ones, the blue and yellow fabric even more vivid than usual. Susie’s platinum hair is poker-straight and pulled back into a ponytail with a cherry red bow. Her lipstick matches the bow’s color perfectly. Wally’s hair is plain, but neatly combed – they look nice, but if Jamie’s honest, he doesn’t see how it’s supposed to be a costume.

Amata seems to think the same. “So… what are you guys going as again?” she asks, a sheepish smile on her face. Wally rolls his eyes and elbows Susie.

“I told you they wouldn’t get it!”

“Oh shut it, we just have to do the thing!” Susie pulls at her brother’s arm, who groans in response.

“FINE.” They both look at Jamie and Amata with their cheesiest smiles - Susie’s looking much more genuine than Wally’s – and give them a thumb’s up.

“Uh…” Jamie doesn’t see how that’s supposed to clear anything up for them.

“We’re Vault Boy and Vault Girl!” Susie snaps, crossing her arms. Wally huffs and shakes his head before walking over to the couch and plopping down, reaching into the pumpkin-shaped plastic bowl on the coffee table to shove some chips in his mouth.

“I could tell!” Amata says, trying to appease her. “You look great, Susie! I love the lipstick.” She grabs Jamie’s hand and twines their fingers together. “We have to go get our costumes ready now, but we’ll be right back. Party starts in thirty, right?”

Susie nods, changing into hostess mode once again. “It looks really good in here, by the way. You did a great job, Amata” She smiles and then says, as an afterthought, “uh and Jamie, too, I guess.”

---

Back in Amata’s room, she and Jamie busy themselves with changing into their costumes. Amata is dressed to the nines in a slim-fitting black dress with emerald green accents that she had sewn herself with her mother’s old machine. She has a pair of elbow-length black gloves made from leftover pantyhose and a pearl necklace around her neck that Jamie found in the lower levels of the vault. He kept the details of where he found it to himself. Her costume is pretty close to looking exactly like the original Mistress of Mystery, they've just taken a few creative liberties.

She’s sitting at her vanity, applying her makeup and curling her hair when she asks, “so, are you excited?” Jamie puts down the comic he’s reading and sits up on her bed. He’s already changed into his outfit – just a simple flannel, some jeans, aged brown leather boots that his dad had stowed away in his closet for some reason, and the closest thing they could find to a ten-gallon hat, which is currently around his neck and hanging at his back. A plastic pistol and a makeshift paper holster sit beside him.

“Yeah,” he settles with, trying his hardest to sound convincing. It’s not that he isn’t excited, he’s just nervous. He’s already kind of a social outcast, which is bad enough. What’s even worse is that Butch will be there, which was fine and normal, except for the fact that it wasn’t because just a last week they’d technically had their first kiss down in their hideout, which Jamie had freaked out over and literally ran away from, and then proceeded to pretend it never happened. Outside of work they’d been too busy to hang out recently, so this will be the first time he sees him in such a casual setting since. It’s not like he can ask Amata for advice – she doesn’t even know he’s friends with Butch for one and she’s unlikely to approve, and what if she asks about their hideout? It’s too risky, not to mention humiliating!

“Jamie!” Amata is snapping at him, a soft smile on her face. He blinks and laughs, feeling out of breath despite the fact that all his talking was in his head. What a mess.

“Hah, sorry. Just thinking. I’m kinda nervous, but you know how I am with people.” He shrugs, picking at his nails. Amata walks over and ruffles his hair.

“Hey, it’ll be fun!” she says, trying to sound encouraging. She takes his hands in hers and pulls him off the bed. “But if you get overwhelmed just let me know, we can just come back here and listen to something on the radio – I don’t mind.”

Jamie smiles at her and pulls her close, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of her head. Man, he missed her.

---

It’s been about an hour and the party is going pretty well. The lights are all off aside from the string lights, which, as Amata predicted, create a pretty nice ambience. Everyone is chilling out and listening to music and talking amongst themselves. A few people are playing board games and enjoying snacks, some are dancing.

Jamie’s nerves have calmed a bit – Wally had the brilliant idea to bribe Stevie to leave them some beer, which Jamie is sipping on contentedly from his seat on the couch beside Freddie and Amata.

Everyone’s costumes turned out great too, Jamie thinks. Freddie came as a werewolf – he’d ripped the arms off his vault suit and used grease paint to draw brown hairs all over himself. He’d even given himself a little black dog nose and glued paper triangles to a headband that could pass as ears. It’s a little messy, but he put effort in.

Paul decided to be a vampire and he’s dressed almost as well as Amata, in a fancy white shirt, black slacks, and a tie – probably the same clothes he wore to prom. He has a long black and red cape wrapped around his shoulders. The fake teeth he’s wearing keep popping out of his mouth when he laughs, and Jamie grins at the sight of him fumbling to catch them across the room.

Butch is next to him, laughing his ass off, flask in hand. Apparently, he’s supposed to be a Greaser – he’s wearing his Tunnel Snake jacket and his hair is slicked into its usual pompadour. The only difference is he’s swapped out his vault suit for a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, which he says are classic. He meets Jamie’s gaze from across the room and smirks, sticking his tongue out at the other boy. Jamie looks away quickly, his face red.

Christine is across from Amata on the other couch, chatting with Susie. She’s dressed in a long white sleeping gown with matching slippers. On her back, she has small, handmade angel wings. Their puffy feathers occasionally fall off and stick to every surface, leaving a trail all over the apartment wherever she goes.

Susie turns the radio down a bit then stands and claps to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, ghouls and gals,” she giggles to herself, “I think it’s about time we started the real party!” Jamie quirks a brow at her and can’t help but notice Amata’s peeved expression.

Everyone who wasn’t already near the couches crowds around and Jamie jumps when he feels two hands clap down on his shoulders. Butch is leaning over the back of the couch, grinning down at him.

“Hey, Nosebleed,” he says with a smirk, leaning closer to his ear. “Cute costume. Who are ya, Calamity Jane?” He tips Jamie’s cowboy hat down into his face playfully.

It’s supposed to be a jab. They don’t typically act friendly in public; something still just feels off about that and they aren’t ready for their relationship to change that drastically. This feels different, however, and Jamie can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. He hadn’t spoken to Butch all night, he wasn’t sure if the other boy would want him too, but somehow this felt like an invitation.

“Nice costume yourself,” he taunts. He can still feel the heat of the other boy’s body against the back of his neck even as Butch pulls away and stands up straight again. “You supposed to look like a knock-off James Dean?”

Susie clears her throat, shooting Jamie an impatient look. “Anyway, as I was saying,” she continues, the giddy smile returning to her face as she holds up an empty beer bottle. “We should play spin the bottle!”

Butch groans from behind him. “Come on, Susie, that’s such a kid’s game.”

Susie sticks her tongue out at him. “If you could let me finish! We’re going to play it with seven minutes in heaven rules, obviously. This isn’t middle school. We’re adults now.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “So, whoever it lands on gets to go into the hall closet. That more grown-up for you, Butch?”

Butch shrugs, “I guess.”

“I think it sounds fun!” Christine chimes in.” It’s harmless, anyway. Come on, let’s just play. Who knows if we’ll ever be allowed to have a party again?”

---

After moving some of the furniture and grabbing a few pillows for them to sit on they’re all crowded in a circle on the rug in the living room. Jamie is still next to Amata, then Freddie, Wally, Christine, Butch, Susie, and Paul. There’s eight of them, so the odds would be even, but Wally is related to both Christine and Susie – which he continues to complain is unfair.

“Oh shut it, Wally. If it lands on us, just spin again.” Susie snaps and sets the bottle in the middle of the circle. She leans back on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, actually, there’s two choices. You can either kiss whoever the bottle lands on in the circle publicly,” Christine interjects with a low ‘ooooooh’ and leans closer to Butch, who grins.

“Or!” Susie continues, “you can choose to go into the closet for seven minutes.”

Jamie’s gut twists uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to play this, anyway, let alone when he might be forced to watch Butch slobber on someone. But he’s here for Amata and for his dad, he guesses, who said it would be good for him to behave like a well-adjusted and social teenager for once.

They’re a few spins in and nothing incredible had happened. Wally spun on Susie twice before landing on Paul and the two went into the closet with their handheld games to pass the time. After, Christine landed on Freddie and chose a kiss – which was more of an awkward peck on the side of the mouth than anything else.

Butch rubs his hands together before leaning forward to spin the bottle, making eye contact with Jamie for a split second and shooting him a wink. Jamie’s heart leaps into his throat and he splutters mid drink, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a small cough.

The bottle spins around the circle once before slowing. For a split second, Jamie thinks it’s going to land on him, but it keeps going achingly slow past Paul and… lands on Susie. Christine claps, Amata wolf whistles, and Wally spits out a half-hearted threat about Butch touching his sister. Jamie sees Butch’s smile fade when he looks at Susie, but he catches himself quick and shoots her his most charming smirk.

“How’s about we hit the closet, babe?” he says, laying the greaser schtick on extra thick tonight. Susie blushes red as her bow and stands with him. They hold hands and both go down the hall and into the closet, the door closing softly behind them. Once they’re inside, Christine sets the egg timer they have to seven minutes and the murmur of conversation breaks out among the small group once again.

“How are you doing?” Amata nudges him gently. Jamie didn’t realize he’d just been staring at the bottle, his shoulders tense. He lets out a long sigh and shakes his limbs loose, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.

“I’m fine. This is fun, huh?” He says, trying to convince himself more than anything. He stares at the egg timer, trying not to imagine what could be happening in the closet. He looks back over at Amata and sees her smiling at him, a soft sadness behind her eyes – almost pity. Was he really that obvious?

“I’m gonna get another drink, want one?” he asks, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Amata just lifts her bottle that isn’t even half empty, a sheepish smile on her face.

“No thanks.”

Jamie walks to the kitchen. He rubs his eyes, his face already feeling warm. He’d only had two, maybe three beers. He definitely isn’t even close to being as drunk as he was when he and Butch… he shakes the thoughts of that night out of his head, dropping his empty beer bottles into the garbage can with a bit more force than he’d intended.

Before grabbing another beer, Jamie pours himself a shot of vodka for good measure. Butch must have brought it from his mom’s stash. It burns like hell going down and Jamie almost gags – how could anyone drink this stuff?

“Yo, Jamie!” He hears Freddie call for him and he grabs his beer and heads back to the circle. Butch and Susie are back. Her lipstick is smudged and she’s fixing her ponytail while whispering excitedly to Christine. Butch doesn’t look much better – his hair slightly mussed up and a bit of cherry red still spread on the corner of his lip. Jamie thinks he might be sick.

The timer goes off just as he sits back down, and Paul walks out of the closet with Amata. He’s scrambling to put his vampire teeth back in his mouth, his cape crooked around his neck, and Amata’s face is flushed when she sits next to Jamie. He can’t help his snort and she slaps him on the shoulder.

“It’s your turn, spaz.” Wally says, kicking the bottle his way. He looks pissed, glaring at Butch. Jamie wonders if they’ll fight later because he played tonsil hockey with his sister. He almost hopes they do, just so Butch can get his ass kicked like he deserves.

Jamie reaches forward and gives the bottle a half-hearted spin, just wanting to get his turn over with as soon as possible. It twirls and lands immediately on Butch. He feels like he’s swallowed a rock.

Butch let’s out a theatric groan, “I ain’t kissin’ you, Nosebleed, so let’s just go to the closet and get this over with.” Jamie’s face is on fire and he slams his beer down on the floor.

“Get stuffed, Butch!” It’s my turn, not yours, so I choose what we do!” Butch quirks an eyebrow at him and barks out a laugh, joined by everyone in the circle – aside from Amata, who squeezes Jamie’s hand reassuringly.

“So, you’re sayin’ you wanna kiss the Butch-man?” Jamie thinks he’s going to die, then. Or kill Butch, and then die. Like a murder suicide. Him and his stupid fucking mouth; he didn’t even think about how that would sound.

“N-No!” Jamie practically yells, his voice a squeak. “Fuck you!” He stands, crossing his arms. “Let’s go, closet then. Get this over with before I kick your ass.” He storms to the closet. Butch gets to his feet and follows him with a smug confidence that Jamie wants to beat out of him.

Suddenly remembering who he’s dealing with Wally says, “Hey! No fighting in my closet. You get blood on my dad’s coats and I’ll pummel you both.” They both turn and simultaneously flip the other boy off before shouldering their way into the closet and slamming the door.

It’s more cramped inside than Jamie expected it to be. Darker, too. The darkness is perfectly fine with him – he doesn’t even want to look at Butch right now. Though, that doesn’t last long as his eyes adjust.

“Hey, Nosebleed,” Butch whispers, his voice and his smile infinitely softer than they were a moment ago. They’re close, really close and Jamie’s head is swimming. Their knees bump when they move and the heat of their bodies radiating through the small space is almost suffocating. He can just make out the details of Butch’s face – the handsome slope of his nose and the playful quirk of his lips. He tries to stay mad, but it’s hard. He wants to kiss him so bad.

“Fuck off,” Jamie breathes, but his aggression is lackluster. Butch’s breath is warm against his face and it smells sweet, like mint. Butch chuckles softly.

“Aw, you’re mad at me?” he coos, leaning in closer and practically pressing Jamie against the opposite wall. “You know I was just kidding, Jamie. C’mon, they don’t know what we do.”

Jamie gulps, wondering if Butch means them just hanging out together or if he’s referencing something more. “As if I’d take Susie’s sloppy seconds ,” he hisses, determined to hold his grudge. Ok, so maybe their first kiss did mean something. He’s pretty sure they’re both drunk again, but they definitely aren’t wasted like before – there’s absolutely no way for Butch to pass whatever happens off as a mistake later. IF something happens.

Butch pulls back a little and looks almost hurt. “Hey, it’s just a dumb game,” he says, tilting his head to try and catch Jamie’s gaze, who refuses to look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, okay? You know how much of a crybaby she can be.”

“Well, I’m not a crybaby, so you can keep it in your pants,” Jamie snaps and crosses his arms, shooting Butch as convincing of a glare as he can manage. The other boy just rubs the back of his neck, his posture suddenly a bit more closed off.

“Dammit, Jamie, ya know that’s not what I mean!” Jamie’s heart is thundering in his ears and his chest is so, so tight. He swallows thickly. He does know what Butch means but fuck it if he isn’t going to make the other boy work for it.

“Maybe I don’t,” he states matter-of-factly. Butch clicks his tongue in annoyance and shoves his hands in his pockets. Jamie can feel the distance between them growing further and he panics, desperate to cling to whatever moment they’re having here.

“What do you want?” he asks finally, his voice barely a whisper as he offers Butch this olive branch. The intensity he finds in Butch’s gaze when their eyes meet almost knocks him over.

“You.” It’s a single word, spoken so softly that Jamie almost can’t hear it, but it steals his breath away, nonetheless. He doesn’t even stop to think when he reaches forward and grabs the lapels of Butch’s jacket. He pulls him close, his eyes closing as their lips crash together in a clumsy kiss. It’s just as good as the last, the other boy’s lips warm and inviting as he returns the gesture with enthusiasm.

Butch grabs the back of Jamie’s head, knocking his silly cowboy hat to the floor, and curls his fingers into his hair. Jamie grins into his mouth when Butch nips his lower lip and he grabs the collar of his shirt, playfully shoving the taller boy against the opposite wall.

“Ow!” Butch hisses when he hits his head off the shelf above them, pulling back for a second to make sure it wasn’t too loud. Jamie’s face goes white.

“Oh god, sorry!” he whispers, letting go and pulling back in embarrassment. Butch just laughs.

“S’fine,” he mumbles, unable to stop smiling. He reaches out and pulls Jamie close again, silencing the other boy’s concerns with his lips.

They continue like that for a while, breathless and excited, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths and their arms holding them close like their lives depend on it. It really does feel like heaven, Jamie thinks, an excited laugh escaping his chest.

They could have stayed there forever, lost in their own little world, but they’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the other side of the door. “Time’s up! You can leave hell now.” Wally is laughing out in the hallway.

Butch and Jamie jump apart, their chests heaving and their lips pink. Butch just grins at him, blue eyes shining with mischief. “Should we pretend we were fighting?”

Jamie laughs. “Sure, but that means you’ll have to admit that I won,” he teases, picking up his hat and turning to leave. Butch grabs his wrist and tugs Jamie back to him. There’s a very serious expression on his face all of a sudden and he's biting his lip like he's thinking before he reaches out to tilt Jamie’s chin up. He leans down and presses one more open-mouthed kiss to his lips and it feels almost desperate. Jamie’s breath is stolen away again, at least whatever was left of it, and when they part, he just stares, dumbfounded, at Butch’s adoring smile.

“Whatever you want, Nosebleed.”