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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"And then me and my trusty partner snapped the Mirelurk shell in two, ripping out the spinal cord and running off!"
Duncan crossed his arms at Deacon's story, "That's not that scary! My pop's told me better stories than that!"
I heard MacCready, who was folding laundry behind me, give a small chuckle at Deacon's failure to spook the kid. Duncan has nerves of steel just like his dad, and MacCready was so confident, that he said whoever could spook him with a story, would get the rest of his caps for a month, so naturally, me and Deacon jumped to the bet. I sat next to Deacon on the bed, handing a corner of the blanket to Duncan, who sat upright with his legs crossed and a stuffed monkey beside him.
I held Deacon's hand, giving him a small smile for his attempt, then looked to Duncan, deepening my voice, "Have you ever seen a Deathclaw?"
He giggled childishly, yanking his stuffed toy into his lap happily, "My daddy told me about them, but they're not really really real, are they?"
I smiled, "Oh, they're real all right." I elbowed Deacon slightly, "Me and my partner took one on in the Glowing Sea! Wanna hear about it, or is it too spooky?"
He persuaded me to tell him, and so I did. Sure, I may have exaggerated a bit, but still, it managed to rattle his bones pretty good. It was fun until he burst out into tears and MacCready kicked us out. Holding Deacon's hand, we walked down a Sanctuary street towards our home. He released a sigh, "It doesn't make sense! We practically said the same thing!"
I chuckled, "There's a big difference between a Mirelurk and Deathclaw. Doesn't matter. You think MacCready will let us hang out with Duncan any more?"
Deacon smiled widely, "Nope. Guess we have to have a Duncan of our own, now, huh?"
"Oh hush. Let's at least live to see our wedding day, please." He got quiet and I smiled up at him, "Oh my god are you pouting still? Just admit it, I'm better at telling stories than you."
He frowned, "Oh please, I just didn't want to scare him too bad, like you did. He'll be shitting his pants anytime he hears a scraping noise for the next two weeks."
"Damn, I did that good?"
"Guess so. Whatever. I have some bacon in the fridge if you want me to make some before bed."
"Before bed? We're on guard tonight, Deacon. You're memory going out on me?"
