This is a series of one shots from Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, and Fallout 4. I do not own any of the characters, of course.
All One Shots are in alphabetical order for your convenience.
Anything with an ➵ and a title has been reread, and (hopeful...
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I strolled into Danse's quarters, not bothering to knock. He quickly put down a power armor manual, and looked to me. I sat across the table, "Danse, what is up with you today?"
He looked to the side, "Nothing. Just tired. I swear."
I shook my head, "No, there's got to be something wrong with you. Tell me."
"It's nothing. Please leave me alone."
I narrowed my eyes at him, but left the room in a huff. I went to Maxson, telling him how Danse hadn't eaten or drank anything today, and how he missed every shot with his laser rifle. Arthur simply stared out over the Commonwealth, "Oh, were you saying something? Right... Well, go through his files or something." I felt red to the cheeks with anger, and went to Proctor Quinlin's office. I asked for Danse's files, and after a few minutes, he handed me a very thin folder.
I thanked him, and got a bowl of noodles before going to my room to search through his files. I opened it and scanned it.
Yes, I know he has blue eyes. Yes I know how tall he is. He weighs that much? Must be the muscle. Yes, I know he has black hair. I thought he was younger than that. I finally reached the bottom of the list, and nearly choked.
Oh, how could I be so ignorant! I ran my hands down my face. Oh god that explains his current attitude. Did no one know about this? Is that why he felt like shit? I got up, leaving the file and my food on my desk. I went to Haylen, explained things, and her and Rhys immediately got to work. Haylen frowned, "But, where?"
I gave a nod, "My room. Just grab some of his friends or whatever."
I waved them off, and they did so. I went to Danse's room, and knocked softly on the door. A quiet voice told me I could enter. I did so, shutting the door peacefully behind me. I looked to Danse, he lay face down on his bed, his face in his pillow. I sat next to him, putting a hand on his back and outlining his Brotherhood-given suit. I sighed, "Danse, look at me." He turned his head to the side, and stared at me. He looked as though he'd been crying. I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing how it soothed him. He pulled me to him, so I lay next to him. He sniffed a little, pulling me closer. I sighed, "Happy Birthday, Danse."
He looked to me, with wide eyes, "You think I care about my birthday, soldier?" He got quiet, "Today is the anniversary of Cutler's death."
