Fallout X Reader One Shots

Butch DeLoria ➵ Consideration

Butch DeLoria
Fallout 3
Warning: Cursing

"I'm trying to be polite here, but if you move that knife a centimeter closer to me-- I'm kicking your glorified ass."

Butch scrunched up his nose, before a grin splayed on his lips, "You think I have a nice ass?"

At this moment in particular, I was pushed to a wall, facing Butch. He had his switchblade out, and under my chin. I hadn't done anything in particular to piss him off, he just needed someone to banter. I rolled my eyes, "Look, Butch, just put your knife away before you end up hurting yourself."

"And you think that's how Butchie's gonna let this play out? No way, doll."

I sighed, "What do you want?"

He narrowed his eyes, keeping his gaze on mine, "I want you to help me with my homework."

I noticed how he said 'help' instead of 'do'. This caught me off guard. I raised my brows as he flicked his knife away. "Homework? That's what this is about?"

His cheeks reddened, "Yes! Mr. Brotch ain't the best at givin' instructions, is all I'm sayin'. It's hard stuff he's teachin' us."

"We don't even have homework tonight."

"I'm talkin' about last week's."

I scoffed, and began walking down the hall. He grabbed my elbow gently, "Look, I know I didn't ask real polite-like, but you'd be doin' me a favor... I'll owe you one."

He released my elbow. I sighed, "Come with me."

He grinned and walked next to me. We made our way through weaving halls, and open doors. We stopped by his room, and he knocked on the door. After not getting an answer, a sad look creeped on his usually cocky expression. He opened the door, and walked in. I followed, looking around. The living room was scattered with beer bottles, and there was even shattered glass in a corner. There was a table and a dresser and other Vault-given furniture. I followed Butch into his room, and saw his mom passed out on the couch. I felt sadness prick at my heart. He kept his jaw clenched, grabbed a bunch of papers on his desk, and ushered me out of the room. We exited back into the hallway. I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me, "Say a word, and you're dead."

I frowned at him, "Alright... Just, uhm... Head to the clinic." His pace quickened and he lengthened his stride, probably out of frustration.

I suddenly felt bad for the guy. No father figure must have been rough. Then again, I hadn't a mother, and I was fine. Maybe because my dad was compassionate enough. But poor Butch. His father hadn't died-- he'd left by choice. Where could he have gone? The Vault's sealed. Was his dad still in the Vault? Or had he left, and no one ever mentioned it? It clouded my mind. I think I was better off because I had my dad, at least. Butch practically raised himself. I guess no one ever took that into consideration. I certainly hadn't. I felt something within my heart ache for him. I suddenly felt angry at his mother. Why couldn't she just pull herself together? If not for herself, then for Butch.

We eventually got to my place. I entered, and saw my dad at work on his terminal, Jonas over his shoulder, pointing at something on the screen. They both looked up as we entered. I grinned, "Hey, Dad. Jonas."

Jonas grinned, "Hey, sport."

My dad looked to Butch suspiciously, "What are the two of you getting up to?"

Butch held up the mess of papers, "Just homework, sir."

I pointed Butch to my room, and he entered. My dad raised his brows at Jonas, "He called me 'sir'."

Jonas nodded sagely, "I'd say he's trying to gain your favor."

My dad looked to me, "Not mine."

I waved the two off before walking to my room. I shut the door behind me. Butch stood at the end of the bed, going through the sheets in his hand, scanning them. He looked up, "So, uhm-"

I held up a hand, silencing him, "Butch... Can we... talk?"

I sat on the bed, and he sat cross-legged in front of me. He sat cross-legged sometimes, and it truly amazed me. Whenever I did, my Vault suit's threads would tighten. It was uncomfortable-- yet, I knew him enough to know that he only sat like that when he was comfortable. He flipped through paper after paper, avoiding my eyes, "About?"

"Y'know... About your... home life."

He looked at me from below his brow solemnly, "No."

I sighed, leaning against the wall, "You need to talk to someone about it, Butch. You have no one to impress right now. Open up some."

He scoffed, red to the cheeks, "You think I'm not open?" He looked at me, and saw my expression, "Maybe you're right, doll. Look, I just don't like to talk about it, okay? Let's just... drop it..."

I looked around my room nervously, "Are you mad at him?"

His mouth turned into a straight line in a frown, "Who?" He didn't ask it as a question.

"You know who, Butch. Are you angry at your dad?"

He sighed, and moved to sit differently. He sat next to me, our thighs touching comfortably. He handed me his papers, and I set them on my dresser at arm's length. He let out a heavy sigh, "Wouldn't you be?"

Something overcame me, and I took his hand in mine. He didn't object, and let me play with his long fingers and short, clean nails. I sighed, "Yeah, I guess I would."

"I'm not mad at him for leavin'... I'm just... mad at him for hurting my mom the way he did. She really loved him, I think. It just ain't right, leavin' a woman the way he did." His voice became poison, "But he just fucked her over. Me, too.

I interlaced our fingers, laying my head on his shoulder, "So, you have trust issues?"

He rested his cheek on top of my head, "Never been able to admit it, but yeah, I think I do. Even Wally and Paul... I mean, we're friends and all, but I couldn't tell them this sorta stuff. Ain't the same."

"Well, I want you to be open with me." I moved my head, and turned to look at him. His eyes searched mine. I looked at him carefully examining his eyes. I whispered, "Tell me you'll be open with me."

He replied in a whisper, putting his forehead against mine, "I'll be open with you. Promise."

I slowly put my lips on his. He took his left hand away from mine, and wrapped it around my shoulder securely, putting his right hand in place of his left, gripping my hand. His lips were hot against mine. I could feel warmth radiate off of him, even through our Vault suits. I heard the whirring of my bedroom door opening, and pulled my lips away from Butch's. I looked to the door, seeing Jonas and my father. Butch slowly took his arm from around my shoulder, and put his hands in his lap nervously. I raised my brows at my father. Jonas gave him a wad of cash before grumbling and walking out.

My father cleared his throat, "So, how's the 'homework' going?"

I wiped at my bottom lip with my thumb, grabbing Butch's hand comfortably, "Great dad. Chemistry is fun."

Author's Note
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