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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #slow burn #Eventual romance #The Happy Ending #that's right #paladin danse x f!sole #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #epilogue #the gang's all here

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maggie-the-ghoul · 6 years ago

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Into the Nuka-Verse: Familiar Echoes (chapter one)

Hello!

Here is chapter one my incredibly self-indulgent Ghoul Crew fic, based loosely on Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Why? Because I felt like it XD

Thank you to everyone for trusting me with their OCs! Specifically @threegoblinsinatrenchcoat @ghoulhugs @arcanemimesis @rosegaarden @vectober @railroad-blues @spacialkiwi <3 love y’all :)

(under a read-more because it’s kinda long!)

Into the Nuka-Verse: Familiar Echoes

Chapter One: Famous Last Words

The Slog

“Eleanor.”

Eleanor Adams gasped awake, already reaching for the dagger at her bedside table as she sat up. She had been dreaming- pleasant dreams, of warm arms around her and a soothing voice in her ear, but then the voice turned into a raspy whisper that had sent a shiver down her spine.

Her room was dark, and empty. Or so it seemed. Years of experience meant she knew better. Steadying her breathing, she called out, “friend or foe, show yourself!”

Something shifted at the foot of Eleanor's bed, and suddenly she could feel an eerie, but familiar presence. “It's me, child. Apologies for startling you.”

“V?” In her sleepy haze, Eleanor hadn't recognized the voice. She rubbed her eyes, but even as they adjusted to the dark, there was no sign of the eldritch's shadowy silhouette. “I can't see you.”

“It's better if I stay hidden,” V answered tersely. “Something is happening, and there isn't much time to warn you.”

Frowning, Eleanor set her dagger back down. “I'm listening. What's going on?”

“Convergence. The fabric between realities is being torn down,” V replied. “I don't know who or what is causing it, but if they're not stopped, everything could be destroyed. This reality, and countless others like it, gone in a moment.”

Eleanor blew out her cheeks. 'No pressure, then.' “So, what do we do?”

“For now, stay alert. I need to find the source of this disturbance before we have any chance of stopping it.”

“You're going alone? Will you be alright?”

V chuckled. “Yes. I'm more worried about you, and the others here. The longer this goes on, the more chaos it will bring. Hold still for a moment, please.”

Eleanor obliged, keeping still as she felt V's presence draw closer. When a sudden cold touched the left side of her face, she didn't flinch. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you can protect yourself,” V replied. “Every reality has a distinct aura. If you look at anyone or anything that's not from here, you'll be able to tell it apart with the eye I gave you. Until we find out where the danger is coming from, only trust those who are close to you.”

“Understood.” 'Barely,' Eleanor thought to herself, trying to make sense of what V was telling her. Multiple realities? Sounded more like science than the supernatural. She'd need to do her research for this. “What should I do if someone from another reality shows up?”

“Trust your judgment.” V's presence drifted away, their last words lingering in the silent room.

“Gee, thanks,” Eleanor muttered with a sigh as she got out of bed. There was no way she'd be getting back to sleep tonight.

As she waited for the kettle to heat up for her tea, Eleanor grabbed a few books she thought might be useful, and made a mental note to visit her mother later. While her tea steeped, she processed V's warning, which hadn't held much information, and even less instruction. 'Step one: learn more about multiple dimensions. Step two: keep an eye out for people or creatures who don't belong in this reality. Step three...' well, she still needed to figure that part out. Detain them? Send them back? Have them over for tea? Eleanor let out an amused snort at that. On second thought, though, the idea didn't seem that far-fetched. Perhaps patience and kindness would be the key to this.

'Besides,' Eleanor thought as she opened one of her books, 'how much trouble could someone from a different dimension even cause?'

The Commonwealth

The wasteland could be vast and barren, but it also held limitless potential, if one knew where to look for it. One particular person was currently on a journey to find that potential. Deep in thought as he sipped his coffee and basked in the early morning sun, he reviewed his findings. The immediate area was quiet, which suited him. The main road wasn't too far, so it saw decent foot traffic from traders and travellers, and this particular part of the Commonwealth was quite safe: the Minutemen had seen to that. Two days he'd been camped here, and he hadn't seen so much as a mole rat. So, not a bad location.

Looking up from his blueprints, Bastion Graham squinted at the open plot of land in front of him, trying to picture the structure he had in mind. Without warning a strong gust of wind whipped up from behind him, blowing his hat clear off his head. “Hey!” As he reached up to catch it, his blueprints and pages of notes scattered off the stump they'd been resting on. “Oh sh...” He managed to grab them out of the air, before they landed in his campfire.

While he settled back into his seat, he could hear someone approaching behind him, but he was too preoccupied getting his papers back in order to bother looking. He didn't sense any immediate danger, which was good enough for him. Either his instincts were just that good, or just that lazy. Heavy booted footprints drew closer, until they stopped directly behind him. “Um, 'scuse me?”

Bastion's head jolted up at the familiar twang, the accent easily placed but the voice less so. Had he been gone from his brothers so long he'd forgotten what they sounded like? The thought was so distressing he jumped to his feet and spun, ready to offer apologies and an eager greeting. But the face that came into view wasn't Mike's, nor Elliott's, nor either of the twins'. For a split second he thought he was looking at the ghoulified visage of his very human, very dead brother Patrick. Somehow, that actually would've been easier to explain.

Bastion was staring at himself.

Himself, but not quite. The Bastion standing in front of him still had long hair flowing down his back, instead of the shorter cut he now sported, and was wearing a Minuteman uniform. No, he was wearing the General's uniform, or a different version of it. If it weren't for the variations in its appearance, he'd swear he was looking at an image of himself from fifty years ago. This man had the same height, same build, same weight on his shoulders, and all the physical features that he was used to seeing in a mirror.

What was going on? Had his mind finally given in to the weight of his loneliness? The doppelganger at least had the courtesy to look equally confused. He took a step back, visibly collecting his thoughts before speaking again. “Sorry to, um, disturb ya. I was out with a patrol, when suddenly I found myself alone. Saw yer campfire, so I figured...” he shook his head. “But now I'm feelin' even more lost.”

“Well...” Bastion glanced around, racking his brain for an appropriate response, before settling for what he knew best. “Have a seat, while ya get yer bearings. Would ya like some coffee?”

“Oh.” Other Bastion smiled, not at all surprised by the offer. “Thank ya kindly, that would be nice.” Unshouldering his rifle and setting it aside, he flopped to the ground by the fire. “Nice lil camp ya've got here.”

“It's not much, but it's comfy enough.” Bastion rustled around in his pack until he found another empty cup. Perhaps he was being too calm, but his mama had been thorough when she taught him proper hospitality. “I'm, um, workin' on a project, tryin' to find the perfect spot fer it.” They fell into silence for a minute as Bastion poured what was left of his coffee and handed it to... himself. 'This is so fuckin' weird.' “So, General, huh?” He gestured at the other man's getup. “That was me fer a time. Work yer way up in the ranks?”

The General smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes. “Not exactly. It just sorta fell in my lap, and I've been doin' it ever since. Guessin' that isn't the case fer ya, though. Are ya retired, or are the Minutemen no longer a thing here? Wherever 'here' is?” His hand flung out in a sweeping gesture.

“Oh they're goin' strong,” Bastion beamed. “Mikey's the General now, and he's done a lot of real good fer the ghouls, hell fer the whole Commonwealth. The Minutemen are so stretched out they've got two headquarters, at the Castle an' at the Slog.”

Other Bastion's expression flickered to sadness when Mike was mentioned, but in an instant it was gone. “That's wonderful. Makes me real happy to hear that, ya've got no idea.” He took a sip of coffee, and hummed in satisfaction. “So, the Slog is thrivin'?”

“Gets bigger an' busier every month. As a matter of fact, Lottie's the sheriff-” Bastion was interrupted by his doppelganger suddenly choking on his coffee. “Wh-what!?” He sputtered in-between coughs. “Elliott is a what?”

“Heh, it's true. Don't blame ya fer findin' it hard to believe though.”

“...Elliott, a sheriff?” The General shook his head. “Just when I was beginnin' to think our two worlds weren't that different...”

Bastion felt a slight indignation on Elliott's behalf, but he ignored it. “Two worlds, eh? I s'pose as theories go, it's the one that makes the most sense. Maybe we should get ya to the Slog, find someone who might know more.”

Taking off his hat, the General ran a hand through his hair. “Far as I know, this sorta thing hasn't happened before where I'm from. Guessin' it's the same on this end. Who would be able to help?”

“Honestly, I ain't got no idea.” Bastion exhaled hard. “Start at the beginnin'. What exactly happened?”

“I was with one of my squads, we'd gotten some chatter 'bout Raiders gatherin' strength north of Red Guard territory-”

“Red Guard?” Bastion interrupted.

“They're former Gunners, based in, um, Quincy.” The General cringed. “We have a shaky alliance, so I wanted to check the reports out myself. A scout was givin' me a rundown when the wind started pickin' up sumthin' fierce. And then...” He trailed off, frowning in thought, then snapped his fingers. “Purple! Everythin' around me turned purple fer a second. Next thing I knew, I was here.” He looked around. “Come to think of it, it didn't feel like I'd moved at all. Are we near Finch Farm, by any chance?” When Bastion nodded, the General grinned. “So I'm in the same spot, just... in a different place. That clears things up a bit.” “Uhhhh, does it?”

“Gotta admit, this is kinda fascinatin',” The doppelganger continued. “Like sumthin' outta those comic books Vinny liked as a kid.”

“He still likes 'em,” Bastion muttered quietly, just as the wind began to pick up behind him again. Both men turned to watch as a patch of air shimmered and warped several feet away. A hole opened up, widening until it was large enough for several people to walk through. It was deep purple and opaque; nothing could be seen on the other side of it except darkness.

“That's it!” Other Bastion sprang to his feet. “That's what I came through. I should go back through it, might be my only shot home.”

“Wait!” Bastion's hand shot out, grabbing his counterpart's arm. “Are ya sure it's safe?”

“No.” General Bastion tugged his arm out of the grip, squaring his shoulders as he strode towards the strange rift. “But I need to get back, an' stickin' around won't solve anythin'.” As he got closer he lost his footing from the strong gusts blowing around him, but the phenomenon seemed to pull him in. When he reached the threshold he glanced back to shout, “thanks fer the coffee!” before he was gone.

As the anomaly vanished, Bastion let out a huff. 'He's more impulsive than me.' And of course he'd be worried about a version of himself that he'd only just met. Well, there was no way to know if the General had made it home safe, so he'd have to take it on faith. “Alright, now what?” he muttered to himself. Either he'd just hallucinated the last ten minutes, or they'd really happened. The right thing to do was equal parts obvious and difficult: he had to tell someone.

It was a few day's walk to the Slog, the closest he'd been to the place in months, and he was long overdue for a visit anyways. He could hardly bury his head in the sand and pretend he hadn't just seen a different version of himself walk through some inter-dimensional portal. That felt like information he needed to share. As he started to pack up his camp, he thought about who he should go to with this. He didn't have to think very long. 'Michael. This sorta thing probably falls under Minuteman jurisdiction, right?' Within minutes he was packed up and ready to go.

As his feet started to carry him home, he took one last look at the area he'd been surveying. 'Hmm, maybe it's not a very convenient location after all. Should probably choose somewhere a bit closer...'

Two days later...

The Slog

“I am a maaaaan o' constant sorroooow, I've seen troooouble all my days~”

Elliott was singing to himself as he bustled about his office, trying to tidy up now that the day was nearly over. Amazing how chaotic his place of work could get in just a few hours. Empty nuka cola bottles, disorganized files, and some of Eris' effects were strewn across his and Sharon's desks. He picked up his daughter's sketch book, chuckling at the drawing of her as one of his deputies. That one's goin' up on the fridge. He tore out the page as gently as he could and tucked it into his breast pocket, knowing Eris wouldn't mind. She loved it when he and Ave fawned over her artwork.

“Elliott, you in here?” Sharon, his deputy, called out as she opened the office door, and beckoned him over when she caught sight of him. “Hey, might need your help with a situation.”

“What's goin' on?” He set the sketchbook back down.

Sharon blew out her cheeks. “Well, some folks reported a 'purple thing' appearing in the market, and then a guy that's no one's seen before appeared and started freaking out.”

Of all the things he was expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. “Purple thing? The fuck does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, I'm only telling you what the guard told me. But it sounds like the man's making people nervous, and he might need our help.”

Elliott sighed. He'd been ready to get home and go horseback riding along the river with Avery and Eris. Guess that was too much to ask. “Alright, well we better go quick then.”

Public disturbances weren't uncommon in the Slog. Whether it was the occasional drunk, or unruly merc, or upset customer, or bigoted asshole, there was usually a common thread: they always had a big mouth and need for attention. Residents knew to let the sheriff's office or a Minuteman soldier know, then keep their heads down while it was dealt with. Sometimes the situation could be entertaining, in which case Lance or Vincent would inevitably show up to watch and crack jokes. Sometimes it could be dangerous. This time, it was certainly both.

It was easy for Elliott and Sharon to find the culprit. He stood out among the crowd that had gathered around him, dressed in some kind of military uniform that Elliott found vaguely familiar. He thought it looked old-fashioned, but otherwise he couldn't place it. “This guy is, uh, not from around here,” Sharon muttered. “His clothes look like something out of a history textbook.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “Maybe he's an actor? I don't recognize him from the troupe, though, and none of them have ever gotten violent. I don't think this is an act.”

Elliott hummed. “I don't think it's an act either. But ya've seen the getup Mayor Hancock wears. We shouldn't assume-” “Demon creatures!” The man shrieked in a high-pitched voice. His hand trembled as he brandished a rapier at the (mostly ghoul) audience. “Satan's spawn!” He was met by boos from the onlookers, and several of the merchants, upset that their business was being interrupted, added insults to the mix.

“...Okay, yeah, he's not from around here,” Elliott agreed quietly, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture as he took a tentative step forwards. “Dunno how he's never seen a ghoul before.” A former vault dweller, maybe, like Abby? Elliott raised his voice as he addressed the man. “Uh, sir? Imma need ya to put yer sword down, please?”

Sharon let out a loud snort that barely covered up her laugh. “Now there's a sentence I bet you'd never thought you'd say, sheriff.” Elliot huffed, his patience already wearing thin. “This ain't funny, I dunno how to fight off someone with a sword!” He was ready to draw his sidearm if needed, but he didn't want to escalate to that. This man was definitely scared enough without having a gun pointed at him.

“Stay back!” The stranger warned as Elliott and Sharon slowly approached. “Whatever evil this is, it will not break us. The Minutemen will not be defeated by witchcraft!”

Elliott froze. “Minutemen?” He shared a skeptical look with Sharon. “There's no way this guy is one of Mike's...” “Oi, Lottie!” Vincent's head popped out of the crowd. “Maybe ya need to challenge him to a duel! I got five caps on the other guy, any takers?”

“Fer fuck's sake,” Elliott grumbled, as a wave of laughter rippled around him. The situation was only getting more confusing, and more irritating, by the second. He snapped his fingers at the nearest guard. “Go get the General. Tell him the sheriff needs his help.”

Elliott watched the soldier dart off, intent on stalling as long as possible. Whoever this stranger was, he was more interested in defending himself than outright attacking anyone, so the danger was not immediate. Maybe Mike would be able to calm him down, Minuteman to Minuteman, otherwise they would have to subdue him. Risky, but it was their only other option.

Or not. As the distraught man waved his weapon around, a dark purple light seemed to emerge from where he was standing, and before he could even become aware of it he vanished. In his place was a person-sized hole, which promptly disappeared.

“Um.” Around him, Elliott could hear people muttering to each other about what they'd just seen, their tones confused and scared. His feelings mirrored theirs, though he tried not to show it. “What was that?”

“I've never seen anything like it before,” Sharon said in a low tone. “I guess that was the 'purple thing' that was reported, but... Elliott, what the hell's going on here?”

Before he could answer, a shocked gasp drew his attention. He turned to look at its source, an older man who was pointing skyward, and his stomach dropped as his gaze followed to see another thing, another rift, appear, this time several feet up off the ground. Its diameter rapidly expanded until it was much bigger than the last one, and as it grew, roaring winds accompanied it. The market stalls started to shudder and creak, while anything not tied down flew straight up into the sky, swirling around the unnatural threshold in a whirlwind of objects. Curious murmurings quickly turned into panicked shouting as the crowd scattered.

“Everyone stay back, get outta here!” Elliott waved people away, stumbling as he fought against the wind, which was furiously picking up speed. Sharon reached out to steady him, and he gave her a grateful nod. “This whole area ain't safe. We're gonna need the Minutemen's help to close down the market- damnit!” He lost his balance, and suddenly his feet skidded over the gravel as he was tugged towards the middle of the market. As hard as he tried, he couldn't fight against the rift's pull, and he only stopped himself by crashing full-on into a merchant's stand. “Ow!”

As he braced himself against the tempest, a scream pierced the cacophony, and Elliott's blood ran cold when he saw its source: a young girl, alone, in the midst of the chaos. She was clinging to a sign post as tightly as she could, trying to keep herself from being blown away. The wind was so strong her feet weren't even touching the ground, and Elliott could see her hands already slipping. “Shit!” Without thinking he ran, letting himself be dragged closer to the eye of the storm so he could get to her faster. He was able to reach the child just as she lost her grip, and he held her close as he clung to the sign post with his other hand, digging his heels into the dirt best he could for any kind of leverage.

“Elliott!” Sharon let herself be drawn forward until she was at the stall closest to him, using it for support. “Hold on!” Thinking quickly, she grabbed the stall's banner and tied it tightly around her arm to anchor herself.

The post bent dangerously and began to splinter. This won't hold much longer. He looked down, forcing a smile for the girl. “S'gonna be okay.” He promised, looking to Sharon, who had her hand outstretched. He let go of the sign post, and with all his strength, threw the child towards his deputy. Sharon managed to catch her without any difficulty, staying securely tied to the stall.

Elliott was able to get a grasp on the post again, but it broke as soon as he did, and the last thing he heard was people calling his name as he got pulled into the sky and swallowed up by the rift, which vanished behind him a few moments later.

The world stilled. Sharon lay on her back, breathing hard from exertion. Anything that had been in the air when the rift disappeared immediately fell back to earth, and she covered the child's head instinctively, though nothing fell on them. They were lucky; the rain of merchandise and debris was unavoidable for almost everyone else, and any Minutemen present or just arriving began to clear the area of people, or help anyone who'd been hurt. The entire market was a mess of debris and collapsed stands and scattered goods, and even some of the roofs of nearby buildings had been damaged. It would take days to clear up the mess.

“Make way!” A deep, commanding voice called out. “Anyone not a Minuteman, leave the market now! If yer hurt, wait fer help!” Michael Graham, sounding every bit the General as he directed his subordinates as necessary, had arrived.

Sharon sat up, unwrapping the banner from her arm before carefully checking the girl over. She was scared, but unhurt. Her mother ran over, crying tears of relief and thanking Sharon profusely for her help. As the deputy suggested they get to the clinic, Cory, a familiar and welcome sight, came into view. “Sharon! Gods, are you okay!?”

“Sharon!” Mike appeared alongside Cory. “Y'alright?”

“I'm okay.” Sharon dusted herself off as she stood, waving away their worry and making sure the mother and child were escorted to safety by a guard. “Really.”

“We were being told about a disturbance, then suddenly everyone was panicking and we saw the storm, or whatever it was...” Cory surveyed the area with a grimace. “This is a disaster.”

“We'll take things from here,” Mike said, gently but firmly. “Ya an' Elliott'll hafta catch us up on what happened. Where is he?” Mike glanced around, expecting Elliott to appear at his side, as always. When he didn't, his expression shifted. “Where's Elliott?”

“Mike...” Sharon rested a hand on the General's arm. “I- I'm sorry...”

“Sharon.” Mike's voice trembled with worry. “Where the hell is my brother?”

#ghoul crew #ocs #lots of ocs #especially in later chapters #fallout 4 #ghoul oc

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thefloorisbalaclava · 7 years ago

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Rancher!McCree AU - Chapter 2 - Jesse McCree x Fem!Reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! Took a while but I think this chapter builds on the relationship between McCree and Reader. It also shows that Reader is quite capable of taking care of herself if need be. No damsel in distress here!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Words: 2,538 Warnings: violence, racist terminology

You are startled awake by a loud, crashing sound and string of curses coming from McCree’s room. You jump out of bed quickly and make your way down the hall to knock on his door.

“Mr. McCree, you okay?” You put your ear to the door and listen for an answer. “Sir?”

“Goddamn it!” McCree exclaims followed by another thud. “I-I’m fine!” It sounded as though he was struggling with something but you were worried that he was hurt.

“I’m coming in. Are you decent?”

“I am but there ain’t no need for you to come in here!” You would probably be better off listening to him but you open the door anyway. There were things thrown all about and he sat on the bed shirtless with his head in his hands. You cover your mouth when you realize his left forearm and hand weren’t real.

“Mr. McCree?” You say quietly, cautiously as you bend to pick a few things up.

“You ain’t gotta do that.” He says from behind his hands but you continue. “I said stop!” You flinch and stand up straight.

“You okay?” you ask again.

“Do I look okay?” He chuckles bitterly and looks up at you. “I told you not to come here. Don’t you ever do what you’re told? I gotta send you away already?”

“I’m sorry. I was concerned…” You find the courage to ask what you’ve been wanting to ask since you saw it, “Your arm…did that happen in the war?”

“That ain’t none of your damn business. Get outta here, would ya? Just go.” He looks away and you respect his wishes, walking out and closing the door. You decide making breakfast was the only way you could help right about now.

You were nearly done cooking by the time you heard footsteps coming down the hall. They slow down when they reach the kitchen and you can tell McCree stood there…probably trying to think of something to say. You were surprised to hear what he said next.

“It happened when I was workin’ on the railroad,” he says. You stop moving around but you don’t turn to him. “It was an explosion. Lost it all the way up to the elbow.”

“Oh,” you mumbled still not looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

“They were lookin’ to get rid of me…”

You finally look at him, “You think they did it on purpose?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He walks over to you, “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, sir…I mean, McCree. But…why would they want to get rid of you?”

“You mean you can’t tell?” You turn to him and look at him questioningly.

“Tell what?”

He looks at you for a minute then shakes his head and clears his throat, “Nothin’.” He takes a plate and sits down at the table, poking at the food before speaking again, “I’m goin’ into town today, you need anything?”

You smile brightly, pulling a list out of the pocket on your apron. McCree looks down at it, bewildered before you explain. “I-I’ll go into town myself and shop if you want me to,” you say, smile falling.

“No, I’ll do it. I just wasn’t expectin’ you to have a list made up already.” He looks the list over and puts it in his pocket. “Breakfast looks good. You joinin’ me?”

You still weren’t used to eating at the same time and table as your employer but it was time you started. You make yourself a plate and sit across from him, watching him enjoy your cooking. “Good?” you chuckle.

He sputters then wipes his mouth while nodding, “Yes, ma’am. Some of the best cookin’ I’ve ever had.” He stands and you stand after him quickly. “I better get goin’ if I wanna get back before dark.”

“Would you like me to make you some sandwiches to take with you?” You start walking over to the countertop.

“No, you ain’t gotta do that. I’ll grab somethin’ for myself.” He puts his hat on his head and walks to the door, “You, uh, ever shoot a gun before?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

“Yes sir, I have.” You think you surprised him more with your answer. “Why?”

“Well, just in case somethin’ happens…” He stops and shakes his head, “Not sayin’ it will…aww hell, forget it. I gotta learn when to stop talkin’.” You walk over to the door and watch him climb onto his horse. He tips his hat, “Should be back before supper!” He rides off and you’re left alone.

You turn back to the inside of the house and sigh. You had cleaned up well, but there was still work to be done.

While cleaning, you thought about what McCree had asked you: ‘You mean you can’t tell?’ What the hell was he talking about and why would the men working on the railroad want to get rid of a hardworking man? You learned long ago that a lot of things in this world didn’t make sense and McCree obviously didn’t like you prying too much so you were left to ponder that on your own.

After cleaning for a little longer, you sit down to rest, your mind still going back to what McCree said. If he wanted you to know, he would have told you. You also can’t help but to think about why he asked if you knew how to shoot a gun. I mean, of course you did, but you hoped you’d never have to. Where would he keep it anyway?

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you begin searching for it. The first closet you check has a rifle in it, but surely you wouldn’t need a rifle for anything around here unless you were hunting. There had to be something smaller.

You search the cabinets then the drawers and your eye catches something way in the back of one. You reach in to grab for it and tense up when you realize what it is. It was a six-shooter and looked as though it had seen plenty of action. It was well-made and loaded. Just for fun, you aim at a few things in the house and pretend to shoot.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” you say to yourself, putting the gun away and wiping your hands on your apron. You should start preparing dinner or at least something McCree could eat when he gets back. You wash your hands off in a bucket of water before grabbing the things you need. As soon as you begin to prepare the food, the sound of approaching horses catches your ear and you listen quietly.

You walk to the door and open it, expecting to see McCree with someone else but you don’t recognize the horses or the people and your heart beats faster. You hoped this wasn’t the reason why McCree asked you that strange question.

The men get down off their horses and walk over to you, their steps faltering when they get a good look at you, “Well, well, well looks like McCree is gettin’ a taste of the wild…just like his father.” What? You don’t say a word. “Hey, girl, where’s McCree?” They get closer and you don’t like the look of them one bit.

“He ain’t here, sir…went into town. I’ll let him know you stopped by.” You smile sweetly, making sure they couldn’t see how nervous you were.

“Nah, we can wait. I’m sure you can find some way to, uh, entertain us,” one man says and both men begin laughing.

“As I said, I will let McCree know that you were here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have dinner to make.” You turn away but the men follow.

“McCree? So, y’all are that familiar, huh?” What he was implying was ridiculous and scandalous but you answer with a smile all the same.

“He asked me to call him that.”

“Oh, so you do what you’re told then? Wish more of your people were like that. The war got ‘em all on their high horse…” He spits onto the ground and leans in close to you, “What are you makin’ for dinner?”

“I don’t know yet. I was…interrupted.” The anger that flashes in his eyes almost makes you jump back but it’s gone in a moment’s time. His friend was quiet and you appreciated that.

“Sorry for botherin’ ya. Just need to talk to your owner.” He said it as if he knew it would bother you.

“He ain’t my owner,” you snap, squaring your shoulders. “I’m a free woman.”

He runs his hand along your cheek gently then grabs your face, “You’re also just a mulatto who doesn’t know her place. You better watch your mouth, girl.” He glares at you and you glare back. He certainly wasn’t expecting that.

“May I go back inside now?” You ask, wiping your face where he touched you.

“Why I outta…”

Suddenly you hear another horse approaching and you pray that it’s McCree. The men turn away from you and you’re able to look past them at the horse coming towards the. You almost sigh out loud in relief. You watch as he jumps down from his horse and almost runs over to the house.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” he asks, breathing heavily. He looks at you and you try your best to smile at him.

“These men were just leavin’”, you say quietly.

“Can we at least stay for dinner?” The man stared you down again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I need you get off my property. Now.” McCree says, moving so that he can stand beside you.

“Aw, but we wanted to talk about your pretty lil mulatto here, and she is a fine one. You gonna share?” he asks and you can feel McCree bristle next to you. Before you can stop him, his fist is crashing into the man’s face. You shout and move back as the man’s friend joins in, trying his best to pull McCree off. There was no way he was going to fight off two men; it wasn’t a fair fight.

You wanted to scream and shout but this was no time for panicking. You run back into the house and go right to the drawer with the six-shooter. Your hand shakes as you lift it this time, but you walk back to the door calmly. You pull back on the hammer but no one seems to notice until you point the gun to the sky and fire it. All the men stop to look at you and you aim at the main troublemaker.

“Next one goes between your eyes,” you threaten. Your hand twitches and the man and his friend stand quickly, leaving McCree on the ground. “He asked you to get off his property and I suggest you listen, sirs.” He snatches his hat up angrily and backs away.

“I’ll be back, McCree…you know I will. You better get your lil mulatto under control or I will.” You move towards him and he stumbles back, hands up. “I’m goin’…” The sinister smile on his face as he gets onto his horse and tips his hat sends a chill through you but you keep the gun on him until they ride away.

Now that the situation had died down, your hands begin shaking and your knees get weak. Tears cloud your vision and when McCree suddenly puts a hand on your shoulder, you scream.

“It’s all right now, darlin’. Go on and give me that.” He holds his hand out for the gun, pushing the hammer back into place. You turn to him and try to speak but only cry more.

“I-I was gonna make dinner…I was tryin’ to, I swear,” you say between sobs.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that. Let’s go inside. C’mon.” He puts his arm around you and helps you walk up the steps. You should be the one helping him. You turn to get a better look at him and gasp. “It’s nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before. Don’t fuss.” He winces as he sits at the table and you knew you had to fuss.

Wiping your tears one your sleeves, you bring the bucket of water and a clean rag over to the table. You push on his ribs and he winces more. “Don’t think they’re broken but you will be bruised and sore for a while.” You dip the rag into the water and bring it up to his face but he moves away.

“I told you not to fuss.”

“Would you keep still please?” Your hands were still shaking slightly as you wiped his face gently, trying to cause him the least pain possible. “Why’d you go and do that?” you ask, shaking your head.

“He…disrespected you.” He clears his throat, clenching his teeth as you wipe over his eye.

“I’m used to that, Mr. McCree. Comes with the territory,” you joke but he grabs your wrist and stops you from wiping his face.

“It’s not a joke! What would’ve happened if I didn’t show up when I did, huh?” You snatch your hand away and continue your work.

“It don’t matter. You showed up and we’re both okay. I’m a lot tougher than I look…” It was true although you did burst into tears in the moment.

“How’d you know ‘bout the gun?” he asks calmly.

“I, uh, snooped a bit. Is it from the war?” He nods and looks at you, “Were you scared?”

“Of those guys? No.”

“No, I mean during the war. Were you afraid of not knowing if you would make it another day?”

He sighs and looks away from you, “Yeah, I was.” The mood had turned even more serious than what it was and McCree just couldn’t have that. “Should I be afraid of you now? Looks like you know how to handle that gun a little too well.” He smiles and you smile back.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I can’t speak for those other fellas though.” You shrug and he laughs lightly. “It’s a good skill to have, you know. Growin’ up the way I did…” You clear your throat and stand but McCree grabs your arm gently.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for anything bad that’s ever happened to ya. I’m sorry that somethin’ bad almost happened to ya today and I wasn’t here…I…” He lowers his head then looks at you again, “I’m sorry that I brought you here and put you in danger. I’ll understand if you don’t wanna stay.”

“I’m stayin’, McCree. I ain’t lettin’ those men scare me away that easily.” You wink at him and he gives you a crooked smile. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, but don’t you worry ‘bout cookin’ tonight. I’m gonna do it.” He stands slowly and walks to the door, “Gotta get the stuff I bought, left it on the horse. I got everything on the list.”

“You’re goin’ to cook?” you ask skeptically.

“Yes’m. Start a fire and I’ll deal with the rest,” he says before walking out the door. There wasn’t much you knew about McCree, but he seemed to be full of surprises.

#Jesse McCree #McCree #McCree x Reader #Overwatch #reader insert #headcanon

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