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

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What's a Girl Gotta do to Get A Gannon Cannon Around Here? (pt4)

[(Anonymous)]

“Let’s go out on the town with Cass tonight,” Boone said to Arcade through gritted teeth. Arcade looked up from his Latin book, startled. Methodically, he marked his place and put the book down on the coffee table. “Well now,” he began, pushing his glasses up his nose, “that’s a pretty strange request considering you hate going out, you hate the town, and, well, you hate pretty much everyone.”

“It could be fun,” Boone said, mechanically. His jaw was starting to ache from gritting his teeth so forcefully. “Please,” he added grudgingly. Arcade searched the surly man’s face a moment as if checking for illness or insanity. Finding none, Arcade responded, “alrighty then. It’s nice to see you make an effort to be sociable for once.”

Later, the trio crowded into the elevator, Boone standing awkwardly in between Arcade and Cass, feeling exposed without his heavy shades. Arcade had managed wrestled Boone into a clean shirt, but unsurprisingly hadn’t been able to coax the man into leaving his beret behind. “It’s your own damned fault for asking for a marine haircut every time we go to the barbers. It’s my expert medical opinion that this is going to make you bald faster. Then you really are going to need that damned hat,” Arcade had grumbled as he’d finally given up.

“We don’t have caps to waste on bail, so if you do anything illegal kill all of the witnesses,” was the Courier’s only comment as she watched them crowd into the elevator, clearly disapproving of blowing their caps in such a flippant fashion. “Where to, partner,” quipped Victor in his usual cheerful lilt. “Hell,” Boone muttered under his breath. Cass’s elbow struck Boone in the ribs, but that could have been due to the closeness in the elevator. “Take us to the main floor, Victor. We’re going out on the town,” Cass instructed. As the elevator began its decent, Cass pulled a bottle out of her jean jacket. Cracking the seal, she took a slug and offered it to her companions.

“What is it,” Arcade asked as he surveyed the green liquid. “Looks…. Radioactive.”

“Absinthe,” Cass replied.

“Ah, yes. The green fairy, they used to call it in the old days, way before the war,” Arcade narrated in that factual way of his. “I’ve treated a fair amount of boozers in Freeside thanks to that stuff. Black out drunk if you’re lucky, trashed liver if you’re not. I’ll pass.”

“After a heavy night of drinking this stuff, sometimes I have a hell of a time remembering the night before,” Cass commented with a laugh. That peaked Boone’s interest. “Give it here,” he grunted. Cass handed it over with a smug smile and Boone took a heavy slug. He took another for good measure. “Take it easy, Hoss,” remarked Arcade sarcastically. “I’m not particularly keen on carrying you home tonight.”

“I’ll be fine,” Boone said, fighting the feelings of guilt and apprehension at what he was about to help Cass do. “Here,” he shoved the bottle at Arcade. “Live a little,” he said. Arcade looked back with surprise a moment, and then took a swig as instructed. The elevator doors rolled open smoothly and Victor wished them a pleasant evening.

“Oh,” agreed Cass, “I think it’s gonna be pretty pleasant indeed.”