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F!LW/Butch - Extreme Jealousy
Date: 2012-05-23 07:57 pm (UTC)I'd prefer a good!karma LW but if the A!A wants to make it so that he's following her, neutral-bordering-on-good would be fine too.
Bonus points if the LW isn't girly at all and kind of rough around the edges.
Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 1/?
Date: 2012-05-26 10:17 pm (UTC)Butch berates himself every time Blair drags him across the Wastes, which is pretty goddamn often. It fuckin' sucks, being with D.C.'s hero. She's got friends everywhere - and most of them need her help. She'll get letters and radio broadcasts dedicated to her, asking for assistance in the little settlement of just-kidding-we-deserted-this-shithole or the small cave community of we're-fucking-brats-here-enjoy-some-shitastic-cave-fungus.
This week, Blair's dragged him out to the middle of goddamn nowhere, underneath the city in some dank, musty metro settlement. Butch isn't a pussy or anything; fuck no, so he's not scared of the dark underground. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared shitless of the metro's freaky residents.
Sure, the doctor's brat has tons of friends across the Wastes, and that's all fine and dandy, but this time they're hanging with cannibals. Fuckin' cannibals!
As if that wasn't bad enough, the leader of the scary fucks is a guy. A guy Blair's particularly friendly with (maybe even fond of) and that doesn't sit well with the Butch-man. Not at fuckin' all. It's even worse that Vance, some handsome-ass bloodsucker, is showing interest in her. There's that sting of raging anger he's felt a million times before, always with the bastards that Blair gives her attention to.
"Blood-drinkin'cocksucker," Butch mutters into his glass of whiskey, sitting at the huge table in the center of their small community. Two pretty birds are eying him from across the room, ain't like he's stupid and can't tell, but he doesn't want shit to do with them. Butch is too busy watching Blair talk with their leader, laughing and acting girly and shit.
Hell if she actually is. Blair's the hottest, smartest, toughest, and roughest goddamn woman Butch has ever met. She's a great shot, has a sailor's mouth to rival his own, and dammit - he finds it all fucking sexy as hell.
No, she can't fool him, only because he knows her well, and that bothers him further. They've been through so much bullshit together, and she still doesn't flirt and tease with him the way she would with fuckin' Harkness, or goddamn Brock. He hates how she flirts with Billy Creel, that asshole, whenever they're in Megaton, or like now when she just brushes her palm against the cannibal bastard's elbow, leaning forward and laughing.
He goddamn hates it.
Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 1/?
Date: 2012-05-26 11:28 pm (UTC)He enjoys it, though he'd never fucking say that. Naw, that's for babies and shit, getting all emotional. It's not like he could understand her, anyway. She's so rough and tumble and has been through so much - and what has he done? Gotten his butt saved by a badass chick, drunk himself into a stupor daily at the Muddy Rudder until the same broad saved his ass (and liver) again? Pretty fuckin' short on accomplishments.
But still! Butch just can't wrap his head around why she wouldn't be trying to bone the hell out of him. Sure, he might be a little biased, but who the hell wouldn't wanna get with the Butch-man? He's not unattractive, he ain't some crazy Raider, and he can sure hold himself in a firefight, so what's the deal?
He's helped her take down Paradise Falls, helped her save the Rangers, rescued her from Raven Rock (with Fawkes' help, but whatever), and even waited for two goddamn weeks in the boring-ass Citadel, hoping she'd wake her ass up and climb out of the rotten self-hating hole she'd fallen into after her old man's death.
Butch's thoughts, unnecessarily angry and annoyed, are interrupted by Blair's loud giggle. He turns his head, trying to eavesdrop and be sneaky, just in time to catch her crazy-bright grin - directed not at him, but at fucking Mr. Flesh Eater, who looks just as dead as Butch feels at the moment.
"Can't believe you're makin' me hang with these dull-ass cannibals," he complains, wincing at the whiny and obnoxious tone his voice takes.
Gone is Blair's giggly persona, her innocent wide eyes, and pretty smirk. Instead, the fierce look is back in her irises, deep and foreboding, and the intimidating posture of a survivor settles back into her bones. She lands a loud slap on the back of his head, and Butch wouldn't have it any other way.
He grumbles and complains at the violence, what he's supposed to do. Blair smirks at him despite the abuse, so wide and honest that he can't help but grin back - just a little bit.
"Told you, they're not damn cannibals. We wouldn't be within a mile of this Ghoul-infested trap if they were."
She reaches down to her backpack, fishing out a bag of almost-congealed blood. Butch scoots away, doing nothing to hide the disgust on his face. Blair waves it closer anyway.
"They're like modern vampires, you get it?" she says, tucking away the medical supplement as quickly as she brought it out.
"Whatever, B, they still eat people. Y'know, technically."
"I wish," she says, and there's no hiding the lustful undertone. Butch doesn't have to look at her to realize she's ogling Vance. Something snaps, that green thread of envy that's keeping his sanity held together. He scoffs unkindly, and she twists around on the bench to raise an eyebrow.
"What's your problem, Butch?" Blair demands, and he throws his hands in the air, forgetting the glass in his hand. It shatters some distance away, against the cool metal walls of the metro. He sees red, and then green, like it's fucking Christmas in the Vault.
He's angry because she doesn't know what's upsetting him, and he's angry because a part of him realizes it's ridiculous to blame his anger on something she couldn't possibly figure out.
Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2012-05-26 11:29 pm (UTC)- - -
"Nothing! No. Actually, you're my goddamn problem!" It's not true, but it'll get her out of his fucking face. He doesn't want to deal with her right now. The only way he can express himself right now is in pathetic jealousy, which will happen when hell freezes over, and anger. He goes for anger, because fuck, that's the option that's less emotionally taxing.
"Me?" It's slightly annoyed, a little skeptical, and the hint of amusement makes him angrier. Why can't she just understand how he feels? Why should he even tell her what's wrong? He doesn't fuckin' want to, he shouldn't have to. He feels mean today, what with her dancing around flirtatiously, showing him no attention. It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong, he thinks, but doesn't care enough to back up those thoughts.
Laced with anger and envy, he snaps out a few hurtful words followed by, "Yeah, you. Whiny, obnoxious son of a bitch that you are." and, because he can, and because it will upset her, and he needs her to be upset as he is:
"Fuckin' useless, like your goddamn old man."
There's a moment of startling, empty silence, and then, goddammit, pain. The punch catches him off guard. He knows he's struck a nerve, crippled one, probably - but he doesn't care. He just doesn't care anymore.
Butch goes down, hands and knees on the dirty ground, moving only to wipe the blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. He can feel Blair standing above him, can almost see her clenched fists and scrunched eyebrows. There's such an angry wave of heat coming from her general direction that he wouldn't be surprised if her pretty brown eyes were actually on fire.
"Fuck you, DeLoria." Blair whispers, quietly, voice cracking with pain on the last syllable.
Dammit. He doesn't even deserve to be called by his name, now?
He kneels there, staring at the small pool of blood that drips onto the floor in front of him. She leaves him, eventually, and the sure, determined footsteps fuckin' echo in his ears, pounding away at the envy that quickly fades into regret.
They've fought before, but never like this. Always fist-fights that ended playful by the time they'd each used up their energy and frustration - never verbal, never emotional. They'd forgive each other silently in one way or another, leaving the last Nuka Cola or buying extra the others' ammo of choice.
Butch figures there won't be any forgiveness this time. He's never brought up her old man, and he's certainly never made fun of her insecurities. He knows he's the only person she's confided those feelings to before. Butch doesn't gossip, even if he is an asshole, and he hasn't torn down anyone like that since he was sixteen.
That's a memory to keep him over night, he thinks, standing and heading up the stairs past the damn "vampires", up to the cots the group had given them for the week.
Before he knows it, he's asleep. Probably from exhaustion, maybe because there's nothing else to do.
Blair doesn't come to bed, and Butch knows that because she's loud and bitchy at night, and he always wakes up to bitch back. She's not around the next morning when he stumbles out of bed.
Vance won't tell him where she went, but Butch knows he won't be seeing the Lone Wanderer for a long time anyway.
Doesn't matter to him. She's got plenty of friends out there.
He sure as fuck doesn't need her. He can do it himself. His world, what's left of it, won't fall to pieces just because she's gone.
...Right?
Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2012-05-27 06:36 am (UTC)Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2012-05-28 03:24 am (UTC)My ego is now the size of a small country.
Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2012-05-27 04:30 pm (UTC)Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2012-06-04 05:41 am (UTC)Re: F!LW/Butch - Bitter 3/3
Date: 2015-06-22 10:34 pm (UTC)