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Welcome to the Fallout Kink Meme, Part IV! Please assume the position.

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From: (Anonymous)

Butch follows gamely, stumbling as the King pulls him over broken pavement and uneven curbs. The kid's looking around, eyes wide, and the King has no idea how much he remembers from the night before. Freeside looks different by daylight, and the King isn't sure if it's the squalor or the neons drawing his attention. They're attracting stares, and the King does his best to ignore them, but he's getting nervous. He doesn't leave the School of Impersonation too often any more, prefers to maintain the air of mystery that isolation affords him. Truth is, he's past middle age and he doesn't have the energy to make the rounds any more. He trusts Pacer with the day-to-day business of running Freeside, his lieutenants with keeping the peace. The King figures that he's old enough now to enjoy his semi-retirement, spend his days boozing with his gals.

Any more, it's news whenever he leaves the School. People are going to talk. They're going to hear about this on the other side of the wall, in the NCR embassy, going to spend days or even weeks dissecting this move. Why was he out? Who was it, with him? Another King, or a stranger, a drifter? What did it all mean?

It was irritating and embarrassing, and all it meant was that Julie had called him over because of a mix-up with a handsome young stranger. His bruises were starting to fade, though his face was still plenty swollen, and the King's earlier assessment had been right: Butch was young, strong jaw and dark brows. He was handsome, and it had the King all twisted up inside. He'd had plenty of male lovers over the years (hell, he and Pacer had been an item for a couple years until they realized that they were better friends than lovers), but it had been a while since he'd been with a man, longer since he'd met anyone who had this kind of effect on him. The King's only real weakness was a pretty face, and Pacer swore up and down that one of these days, some sweet young thing was going to be his downfall.

Pacer was maybe a little bit bitter (their breakup, while not acrimonious, had been less than mutual), but his words rang true. He was a romantic at heart, and Butch had him all shook up. The King felt himself flushing, was certain that everyone could see it on his face, in his body language. He had a crush on Butch, like he was some schoolgirl and not a grown man. It was unseemly.

They reached the King's School of Impersonation, and not a moment too soon. The King could practically feel the eyes of Freeside on him, could hear the rumors swirling in their wake. He was eager to get inside and out of the public eye, but he was gratified when Butch let out a low whistle at the sight of the building.

"Ol' What's-her-face wasn't kidding, huh?" he said, a note of awe in his voice. "What's a guy gotta do to get a fan club like that?"

The King laughed, perhaps a little harder than the situation warranted. "It wasn't easy," he said, grinning lazily as the door snapped shut behind them "Only had to form the greatest gang the Mojave's ever seen."

Butch shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Did you not hear me? Tunnel Snakes; we rule. Get with the program old man."

From: (Anonymous)

The lobby was mostly empty at 8AM on a Sunday, but the handful of men milling around the counter sucked in a collective whoosh of breath. The Kings had few rules, but number one was: you don't talk to the King like that.

To everyone's surprise, the King laughed again, plainly amused. "You've got a thing or two to learn," he said, almost fondly.

"What, you going to teach me?"

The King couldn't tell if it was scorn or skepticism or flirtation in the younger man's tone, but his heart skipped a beat. "Only if you want me to," he said evenly, leading Butch across the room, towards the back hall. He snapped, and the assembled men snapped to attention.

"You," he said, pointing to someone at random. "Go find Sergio. Tell him we've got a guest, needs a bath and a change of clothes. We'll be upstairs" The man nodded, practically ran from the room.

The King could tell that Butch was watching him, assessing his treatment of his men. Judging, but not in an unfriendly way, he hoped. Inspired, he pointed to a different King, flipped him a cap. "Go to Mick and Ralph's. Get us something to eat, something fresh. None of that canned stuff."

He was showing off, but he thought he saw approval written across Butch's face, and he flushed with pride. He lead the way through the winding halls to the back stairs, explaining a bit of the Kings' history in Freeside. Butch listened, nodding along, asking the occasional question. He seemed impressed, moreso when they reached the King's suite and he saw the heart-shaped bed and the girls draped across it, dressed in nothing but red, satiny nightgowns.

"Pretty nice set-up you've got here," Butch drawled. His tone was casual, but deliberately so, someone determined not to be impressed.

From: (Anonymous)

This is absolutely magical. I didn't even know I wanted this pairing until I read this.

Love the King's assessment of Butch and the way he reads Julie. My heart always melts to see Beatrix mentioned too!