The Rad Zone -- Fallout x reader-ish oneshots

A Long Time

Why is it whenever I try to write shit hits the fan and gets all gross and angsty? I promise I'll write some fluffy shit. Probably.

In which Boone considers his options.

Boone/Fem!Courier

~~~

"One more round."

That's what she said three drinks ago.

Though the inky blackness of the desert night had fallen hours ago, the city was still alive as ever, crawling with gamblers, drunks, and prostitutes. A long, long time ago, it might've been considered pompous and unclean. Though it still was considered to be that by some, it was also considered to be a safe haven. Though, the blinding lights of the casinos almost seemed to paint a big, bright target right on the Strip, as though it were just asking for organized groups to walk right through the front gates and pillage it. That never happened, however. It couldn't now, anyways. Any group of raiders or Fiends wouldn't make it within a mile of the gates. Not after Courier Six took charge, however.

With the win over both Hoover Dam and an independent Vegas, a celebration was in order for the inhabitants of the Lucky 38. That celebration had lasted approximately one month and thirteen days. Every other night was spent in the cocktail lounge with a bottle of whatever poison was picked off the shelf. Half the time, Six never even looked at the label.

It wasn't that she was upset over anything. Everything had gone according to plan. The Fort was wiped out, the Legion was knocked into the history books, and the NCR was chased out of Vegas. With the Dam secured, their future was, too. Life was finally looking up for the girl who had been shot in the head so many months ago. But it did have its downsides.

Six drank because she and the rest of her friends were bored. Life was secure now. There was nothing else to worry about in the near future. With nothing more to plan, or be anxious about, their lives dipped into monotony. The sun would rise and set, all the same as before, just without the urgency that kept her on her toes. For the first time in her life, Six didn't know what her next move would be. So she drank, and gambled, and partied. She was in Vegas, after all. Might as well live instead of survive.

"...and then I told him, 'yeah, and you looked better when I was hammered.'" Cass leaned back on the barstool and howled with laughter, as though she had just told the greatest zinger in the world. She grabbed the edge of the counter and repositioned herself, downing another shot of God only knows what.

Six nodded and gave her a clearly forced chuckle. She rested her cheek on her weary head, eyeing the array of upturned shot glasses before her. She could still count how many were before her, and in Cass's eyes, that meant she hadn't had enough. Six had waved her off, saying that they just started multiplying before her eyes in an attempt to avoid drinking until she passed out. She had just done that not two nights ago, so she felt as though she needed to go easy for a little while.

With that last shot, Cass smacked the glass against the table and stood up on wobbly legs. At least she had learned when to quit. "I'm headed to bed before I drain the supply. Just don't have a party without me." She gave Six a goodhearted shake on the shoulder as a halfhearted goodnight before stumbling off toward the elevator, humming along to the tune playing on the radio. The elevator dinged and closed, and it was silent as the grave.

Six knew she wasn't alone, however. She reached over the counter and grabbed two beers before swinging herself off the barstool and making a beeline for the plush white couches that neatly lined the windows. Boone sat with his head turned to look out the window, probably staring at the rich gamblers below them, who were tiny from this high up. It was hard to tell if he hated them or envied them. The flat, stoic look that he always wore made it impossible to ever tell what he was thinking.