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

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

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From: (Anonymous)

This is my first fill. I admit, this certainly wasn't written exactly as the OP asked, but I wanted to start off with something easy. I hope somebody else fills this, because it has a lot of potential for a creative person.
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Arcade was confused.

From what Arcade had heard, Courier Six rose from the grave Jacob Marley-style to seek retribution. He was a hulking behemoth of a man -- a simmering sack of testosterone and muscle that pissed on fire ants for sport.
He sent Powder Gangers running for refuge in NCR territory. He wrestled Deathclaws. He rode Securitrons like Old World rodeo bulls, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Needless to say, when a slight, young man walked into the Old Mormon Fort claiming he was Courier Six, Arcade was surprised.

"Huh. I see the Freeside gangs have turned to practical jokes." Arcade mumbled as the alleged courier unbuckled his Vault 21 fanny-pack and sat on a dirty lawn chair. The courier didn't respond in the following seconds. He just sat there, staring dumbly at Arcade. The kid was probably performing some absurd gang-initiation rite where he had to make an ass of himself in front of the stuffy doctors. Arcade was sure he'd throw a gang sign and leave to rejoin some crowd of snickering kids outside.

Arcade was wrong.

"Are you talking to me?" asked the courier, looking genuinely surprised.

Arcade opened his mouth to deliver a witty one-liner, only to have it shot down in a hail of frightened half-sentences by the courier.

"Nobody ever talks to me. I try to talk to them, but they scream. They scream and run away. I'm not that scary, am I? I'm practically a cripple! I was shot in the he--"

"Hold up. Wait. Wait, just a second." Arcade cut the rambling youth off. "You're not telling me that you're the actual courier, right? The six-foot-ten lunatic roving the wasteland on a quest for vengeance?"

The courier somberly lifted his bangs, revealing a whitish scar sitting against his brown hair. The gesture made it look like the wound was the source of all his earthly woes. The courier then laid his hands in his lap and looked back to Arcade expectantly. "Yeah. That'd be me." he sighed.

Arcade felt his shock at the discovery dull into intrigue, followed by sympathy, and then shame. He could have prevented this. If he stopped the rumors earlier, then maybe the kid wouldn't have been hassled as much in Freeside. Arcade sighed heavily and reached out to give the courier a handshake. He owed him that much.

"Your reputation precedes you. I'm Arcade Gannon."

From: (Anonymous)

The courier eyed Arcade's hand suspiciously for a moment before eagerly shaking it. Arcade noted that the courier had a firm handshake. It was so firm, in fact, that his knuckles took a minute to regain their hue after the courier dropped it. Well, some rumors were true, at least.

"I came here because I need help." said the courier as Arcade recovered.

"I'm not that kind of doctor. You should probably talk to Julie." Arcade replied as he nursed his sore hand.

The courier pointed through the tent towards a pile of Med-X crates in the corner. Something pointy, brown, and quivering was protruding from behind them. "I already tried!" he sighed.

Arcade flexed his jaw limply. Julie Farkas, crouched in a corner and shaking, wasn't something he saw every day. He turned back to the courier. "If you're contagious, then I will personally have us both quarantined." he said critically.

The courier shrugged. "At least then I'd have some company. It isn't a medical problem, anyway. It's-...different." He drummed his fingers against his chair. "Nobody can stand me. Like, I tapped Julie on the shoulder and she went off running. Is that normal?"

Arcade pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. No, it certainly wasn't normal, but it was probably treatable. "I think you might have some aggression issues. You don't seem to know your own strength, I mean."
The courier looked at him quizzically, "Is there any way to fix that? Can't I just get weaker or something?"

Arcade adjusted the collar of his blue button-up and leaned forwards. He was bored, and nobody would mind him dealing with the courier in Julie's stead. "Yes. Just sit in that corner for a few decades and muscular atrophy will set in. No, no you can't. Look -- let's just try an exercise."

Arcade held out his hand. The courier immediately grabbed at it and held on for dear life. Shaking the nervous kid loose, Arcade explained succinctly, "There's your first problem. Not so rough. Lightly."
The exercise was repeated. This time, instead of practically ripping Arcade's hand off, the courier calmly clutched it.

"That's it. You're not choking a supermutant. There you go."

The courier severed the handshake. He looked at Arcade with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. "I ca-...I can't believe that worked." he said.

Arcade felt a smidgen of pride. He stood up, dusting off his stained lab-coat and fixing the stethoscope in his breastpocket. "I -am- a doctor, after all. Come on. Let's go make you sociable."

The courier followed Arcade out of the tent, into the bustling center of the Old Mormon Fort. The hysteria over the courier's arrival had died down, and the pace of things was fast enough for the courier to slip by unnoticed.

Arcade pointed at a female ghoul sitting by the entrance -- Beatrix the bodyguard. The courier seemed a bit disinclined to the idea at first, bringing up the perfectly valid point that the woman was armed with an assault rifle. Not to mention, she was scowling, and scowling made the courier nervous, which made him raise his voice. And that would be bad.

"She's thick-skinned, figuratively and literally." he reassured the courier.
The courier gulped. He went out into the open and stood beside Beatrix. He pointed to her rawhide hat and made the leap. "You've got some nice leather on you. I could use that to patch up my vault suit."
Arcade guffawed. Beatrix is a ghoul, dammit! What was the courier thinking?!

From: (Anonymous)

Not OP, but I think this is just AWESOME! Maybe its just cross fandom contamination, but this Six reminds me of Peter Parker (I'm currently hip-deep in Avengers fandom and Superfamily in particular), all bluster from nerves and in dire need of hugs. Careful hugs. Maybe with the other person in power armor...

So please, keep writing! I need to read more of "terrifying" Courier Six!

From: (Anonymous)

I thought I commented on this the other day but it looks like I goofed. I love this. I'm really loving the courier. And Arcade? Hell yes. <3

From: (Anonymous)

Pfffft. This is delightfully wacky. Love it.

From: (Anonymous)

I really, really love this. Also, The way Arcade thought the courier was going to be, the hulking mass who pisses on fire ants just for fun? I totally want to see that now. LoL.