Fallout Kink Meme Part IV: Closed to prompts, open for fills.

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Jon Snow+Arcade Gannon, Oathbreaker, 1/1, GoT/FNV crossover

[(Anonymous)]

In his dreams, he was a wolf, and the woods were filled with snow. The sky was black as ink, and the full moon was hanging low over the reflective lake. He was tracking something, a man, but the trail had gone cold and he was unbearably lonely. He threw his head back and howled into the winter night, until the valley was echoing with the song of his despair.

Jon Snow woke in his bed in the Lucky 38. He was tangled in the sheets, and his bare chest was slick with sweat. A radio was playing somewhere in the suite, and the sound drew him out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

Arcade was sitting in a chair, his stocking feet on the table and a medical textbook on his lap. He glanced up from his book at Jon’s approach, and then swung his feet onto the floor. “Evening, Jon,” he said guiltily.

Jon lowered himself into one of the chairs. “What time is it?”

Arcade glanced at the clock over the door. “Half past late. You’ve been asleep for almost fourteen hours. What were you drinking?”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jon said defensively. “I had a bad dream.”

The look on Arcade’s face softened somewhat. “Another wolf dream?”

For a moment, he thought about lying, but he knew the doctor would never believe him. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “I was in a forest, looking for someone, but I couldn’t find them.”

“Were you afraid?”

The dreams had been frightening before, but this one hadn’t, not in the same way. There had been no corpses with burning eyes, only isolation and cold. “No. Just…sad.”

“And do you remember anything?”

Jon sighed. “No. I don’t. And I never will. Whoever I was, wherever I came from, that’s gone. And I don’t want to think about it.”

“Come on,” said Arcade, “You have to have left someone behind. A family, a mother-”

“No,” snapped Jon, and the outburst surprised him almost as much as it did Arcade. “I don’t.”

“Suit yourself,” said Arcade coldly. “I’m just trying to help.” He stood and walked stiffly out of the room. A moment later, Rex poked his head through the door, doubtless disturbed by the shouting.

“Rex, to me,” Jon whispered, and the dog came obligingly to him. Rex laid his head in his lap and looked adoringly up at him. Jon wound his fingers through the dog’s fur, and the knot in his chest eased somewhat.