Red Flags and Long Nights
Title: Red Flags and Long Nights
Fandom: Fallout
Pairing: Butch DeLoria/Female Lone Wanderer
Rating: T
Word Count: 3739
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It's been a year since her father passed. When Evie copes by getting drunk, she and Butch finally end up asking and answering questions they've been wanting to ask each other for a long time..
Looking back at the past several months, it was safe to say that Evie’s life had not exactly been filled to the brim with happy days. Life outside the vault was hard. Although she had become more proficient at a lot of things which allowed her a moment of respite every now and then, she often missed the comfort and lack of risk life inside the vault had meant. Apparently, she too was guilty of not counting her blessings until they were gone.
No, her life had got seriously off track. But even considering that, today was probably one of the worst days yet. It had been exactly one year now. One year since she had had to watch helplessly while the radiation burned her father to death. One year filled with recurring thoughts of what she could have done, should have done, had failed to do.
She had been counting the days for about a week now, dreading the morning when she was going to wake up and be forced to realize that one year had come and gone – and here she was, with nothing to show for it. No progress in any direction whatsoever. All she had been doing was wandering around the wasteland aimlessly, from one place to the next, with no clear goal in mind.
At least – and she was more grateful for that than she would like to admit – she was no longer alone. A short while after James’s death, Amata’s radio signal had reached her. With no other purpose to follow, she had returned to the vault immediately. She had ended the rebellion peacefully. She had made Amata the new Overseer. She had got kicked back out into the dirty outside world before she had even had the time to ask whether she could stay. Back to square minus one.
She had been stumbling from one place to the next, the loneliness engulfing her and dreading to eat her up. In Rivet City, all she had really wanted to do had been to drown her sorrows in three or seven pints of beer. Reencountering Butch had not been part of said plan. Neither had asking him to join her on her journeys. But she had been drunk and sad and sad drunks obviously knew no pride. She still did not know why he had accepted her offer, but he had tagged along when she had left the city two days later. And so far, he had never mentioned anything about wanting to part ways again.
Evie had not yet learned to handle difficult situations in healthier ways than she had done one year prior. So here she was, sitting in an old garden chair on top of the shack they had spent the last night at, slowly sinking deeper into the mesh. Her feet – looking weirdly large in combat boots – were crossed and resting on the low table in front of her as she stared into the beginning sunset. The lovely red hues were not enough to comfort her this evening. She had started to drink hours earlier.
Butch had still been here then. They had not spoken much all day. It seemed that even this morning he had been able to tell she was in a weird mood. Of course, he did not know what exactly was wrong with her, but he tended to avoid talking about feelings. He was probably no good at it either, Evie assumed. So instead, he had gone out to gather supplies from the nearby Super-Duper Mart they had happened upon yesterday.
It was fine with her. This way, she would not have to worry about him seeing her like this. At least not until he came back, which would probably be soon. By that time, however, she would most likely be too drunk to worry about it. To be honest, she already was.
Maybe she could ask him to give her a hug. No, that was stupid. Things had been slightly awkward between them ever since that weird and weirdly great night a few weeks ago anyways. They had silently agreed not to mention it, so neither of them had ever acknowledged what had happened. Her heart beat faster simply from the memory. Evie was not even certain which part had been the most intimate: his tongue in her mouth, his fingers inside her body or the fact that he had held her while they both fell asleep.
Butch DeLoria. If she could travel back in time to tell her past self that one day, she would completely unironically consider losing her virginity to him of all people, past Evie might proclaim her deranged, convinced her future self had lost it. How had they even come to that point? Butch DeLoria, her childhood bully. Her worst nemesis. Her best friend in the whole wide world.
Also, the man who chose this exact moment to climb onto the roof.
The sky had taken on an even deeper red color by now, and it was beginning to get dark. Evie was having a little trouble focusing on the exact shape that was Butch. She gave a weak wave in his general direction. She by now felt pleasantly buzzed and almost kind of happy he was here. Embarrassed, but happy.
He did not wave back, but gave a short, throaty laugh at the sight before him. “Someone’s been drinking, huh?”
She nodded softly. “Care to join me?”
“Sure thing. Hand me the stuff.” He stepped closer and unceremoniously dropped himself onto the second garden chair next to hers. He took the bottle of scotch Evie was holding out to him and took a big gulp, simultaneously putting his feet on the table next to hers, ankles crossed comfortably. “Strong.”
“Yeah, it’s awful. But I ran out of beer.”
“You’ve been at this a while, I guess?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, mentally running through a couple of good and less than good excuses she could name for her behavior. But then, it had been quiet for a few seconds too long and it would have felt awkward to say anything anymore. So she said nothing more.
They passed the bottle back and forth between each other for a while longer. The sun was barely still visible at the horizon. Stars were beginning to show in the dark sky that still felt alien to look at, even now. Too far up and way too vast. Such amounts of space seemed almost unrealistic.
Evie thanked the heavens that the day was almost over. It had been one of those days that lasted for weeks.
“You know, sometimes I look up and for a second, I’m scared I’ll fall into the sky all over again.”
Evie did not have to look at Butch to know that he was smiling. It was no secret he liked having a few drinks every now and then, and until now, she had been the wrong kind of company for that. He seemed to be enjoying this different sort of evening entertainment for once.
“Oh, me too. It’s scary. And really beautiful. But also really creepy.”
He made a noise that indicated agreement. “And we’ve been out of the vault for ages! Does that ever stop?”
“If it ever does, I’ll tell you before anyone else.”
“Thanks, girlfriend.” There it was again. He called her ‘girlfriend’ as if it were just a pet name. And maybe it was. Maybe he meant nothing at all by it. If she were to ask, he would surely think her crazy for even insinuating it might hold any sort of significance. She decided to ignore it, the same way she always did.
Instead of saying anything, she took a big sip of scotch, grimacing as the dark liquid burned its way down her throat. Butch laughed out loud at the face she made. “You don’t drink often, huh?”
“Matter of fact, I don’t. And with how this tastes I’m remembering why. Don’t you mind the taste at all?”
“’fcourse I do. I just taught myself not to pull a face because of it. No one drinks alcohol because they like the taste so much. People drink to get drunk.”
“Philosophic, are we?”
“Well, you know me. Always been a poet.”
Evie could not help but laugh heartily at that. She looked over at him for a moment, a wide smile yet present on her lips. When his eyes met hers, she looked away again almost immediately. For an instant, she had again remembered what she had been thinking about earlier. Intimacy. What a weird thing to be thinking about in the same context as him. Stupid alcohol.
“Can I ask you something?” she tested after a little while of silence.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you come with me?” His only reply was a noise that implied a question mark, so Evie decided to elaborate. “Back in Rivet City. Why did you agree to join me?”
“If you didn’t want me to come, why did you ask?”
“Never said I didn’t want you to. I did. And I was drunk and sad. That’s why I asked.”
It seemed Butch did not know exactly how to answer that. Evie had apparently been right with her guess that he was no good at talking about feelings, no matter what kind.
After a little while, she spoke up again. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things awkward.”
“’sfine. Just trying to think of a good answer.”
“Thought of one yet?”
He hesitated for another moment before he answered. “I wanted to. That’s it.”
Evie decided to blame the scotch for the smile that grew on her face at his words. It was not the whole truth, but one she could go with without having to think about it too much.
“Do I get to ask you awkward questions too?”
“Wouldn’t be fair otherwise, I guess.” She slightly dreaded what he was going to ask her, but she supposed she had to give him that.
“And you have to answer honestly too, else I’ll be feeling like a real idiot.”
They both chuckled. “I promise,” Evie replied. It was not a difficult promise to make. The alcohol made bluntness all that much easier.
“Why did you keep the jacket?” He gesticulated towards her black leather jacket with its snake emblem on the back. The emblem he had sewn on by hand. It was the jacket she had been wearing almost non-stop ever since the day she had come stumbling out of the vault, blinded by the sunlight that was so much brighter that the artificial illumination inside had ever allowed her to expect.
Although tonight had brought to light a different side of her, Evie was usually a rather quiet and reserved person. As such, she spent most of her time thinking about things without ever voicing those thoughts. His question was one she had expected, and she had even been anticipating it for a long time. Still, she had never been able to decide what she would say if he ever did ask. What if he saw some sort of symbolism in her failure to ever rid herself of the jacket? What if there actually was some sort of symbolism there?
“I… didn’t take many things when I left the vault.” She had not had the chance to. “And the jacket was one of the few things I had that reminded me of home. I’ve grown really attached to it.” It was the truth, if not the whole truth. Nowadays, the fact that it had not simply been someone’s jacket, but rather <i>his</i> jacket, held meaning, too.
Another moment of silence, broken only by the sounds of liquid moving inside glass and their heavy swallowing. Evie could feel herself slowly slipping from buzzed to drunk.
“My turn,” she stated. “Why did you never leave?”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing you already asked? Because I don’t wanna. Why didn’t you ever ask me to leave if it’s so important?”
The mood had shifted; it seemed he had taken offence at her questions or rather, at what he thought they implied. That had not been Evie’s intention at all. She simply found it hard to believe that he actually enjoyed being out and about with her. All this time, she had been fearing that he had only agreed to come with her because he had had few other possibilities. And that one day, he was going to get sick of her and leave. She was not the most pleasant person to be around and she knew it.
“I’m sorry. I’m drunk and sad. Kinda like that day in Rivet City. And I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t want you here. I do. I used to be so lonely, and now I’m not. I’d hate it if you left. That’s why I asked. Because I really don’t want you to leave.” She had a feeling she was repeating herself now, but her head was swimming.
“You know, it’s not so bad when you’re drunk like this?” Butch’s aggravation was gone as instantaneously as it had appeared. “At least I know where I’m at with you for once. You never say anything! I’m always in my head guessing what you’re thinking, and wondering if you’re mad at me or if that’s just the way you are, and never getting a straight answer.”
She had never even considered he might feel that way. What a strange thought, that all this time, while she had been trying and failing to understand him, it had not been all that different for him.
“I just know I’m gonna hate myself for oversharing tomorrow.”
“You’re not gonna take it back, are you?”
“Well, obviously, I can’t.” Maybe it was better that way.
The moon had risen fully by now. It was as dark as it was going to get. With the lack of civilization nearby, the moon and stars’ white light was more than bright enough for Evie’s taste. She could feel the tiredness from carrying her negativity around all day in her bones. The bottom of the bottle was growing closer, too.
“So, as much as I’m enjoying you saying more than five words for once, you drinking like this is really out of character. Wanna tell me what’s got you drinking?”
There it was. The question she had been dreading, but also the question she had been silently begging someone to ask. Begging him to ask. Because no one had asked her why during all this time.
“My dad’s been dead for one whole year today.” The words were out there before Evie had even caught herself forming them. There was a lump in her throat from the significance of it, but at the same time, an intense feeling of relief washed over her. It was so strong she barely noticed how long the ensuing silence was until Butch said anything.
“Damn,” he eventually forced out, eloquent as ever.
“I know,” she answered, a sad smile itching at the corners of her mouth. A warmth bloomed inside Evie because the response he had given had been absolutely perfect. <i>Damn</i>. Because that was all there was to say, was it not? She was more grateful than he could know that he had not asked her to elaborate. She did not want to talk about it, not yet. Maybe one day. But for now, <i>damn</i> just about cut it.
She deliberately let the silence linger for a minute or two. Then she decided to save Butch from the awkwardness he was most likely experiencing.
“My turn again.” She gave him a moment to mentally prepare for her asking him another question. Since they had crossed the border into serious territory, she hesitated only barely before continuing in a similar fashion. “Are you happy? You know, with the decisions you made? Leaving the vault and everything behind?”
His answer came without missing a beat. “Best fucking decision of my life. There wasn’t anything keeping me there.”
That he had been itching to leave the vault had been clear from the first moment she had seen him during her short-lived return to the vault. But that he was so adamant about it surprised Evie. “Your friends? Your mother?”
He hesitated for a few breaths then. “Maybe my mom. But not really either. We were always fighting and then I’d say things and then regret them the next day, and she was always so unhappy. Maybe she’s better off without me to worry about.”
<i>I bet she misses you.</i> Evie decided not to voice that thought. There was nothing to gain from saying something out loud that he surely already knew. If anything, it would only cause him pain. So, instead, she said something else.
“So, you never think about going back?” To her that seemed an impossibility.
“Not really. Do you?”
Of course she did. Out here, she belonged nowhere and with no one. There was no purpose to her aimless wandering at all. She longed for the time when she had still been living inside the vault. Even then, she had often been unhappy. But at least she had been an unhappy person with a sense of consistency.
“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled eventually. “I can’t go back anyways. Amata made that pretty clear.”
Butch gave a noise of both recollection and agreement. “That’s so fucked up. You come as soon as you’re called to help, bring peace, convince the asshole Overseer to step down and not a single person dies in the process. And then it’s, well, thanks a bunch, but if you’d kindly show yourself out? Oh, and don’t come back. See you never.”
Evie had not anticipated this level of involvedness on his part. “You’re so angry when it isn’t even you they threw out.” She gave a small, perfectly unfitting laugh. In her drunk mind, hearing all of her misery summed up so neatly made her want to laugh out loud so she would not accidentally end up crying instead.
“Well, aren’t you?”
Her laugh faded and was replaced by grim certainty. “Every time I think about it, I get angrier.”
Butch nodded in agreement before turning her earlier question around on her. “So, if all that weren’t keeping you, would you still go back?”
Her reply, too, came quick as a shot. “In a heartbeat.”
Evie’s next sip from the scotch was the last. She leaned forward, putting the empty bottle down on the small table before lifting her feet and putting them down on the roof. For just a moment, she held her face in her hands while the world spun around her. It had been way too much alcohol in way too little time for her inexperienced body. She took a deep breath before lifting herself into a standing position.
She stumbled only slightly before finding her balance. Still, on this rooftop, that seemed to be enough to alarm her companion. Already, Butch had jumped up and grabbed her by one arm, helping to keep her upright.
And boy, was he standing close, Evie realized. When he was this close, she felt wonderfully small in comparison to him. With the moonlight hitting him from behind, darkness hid his facial expression from her. No matter. She was unable to focus her sight properly anyways. But being close to him felt nice. Even the way he held onto her arm felt nice, be it only to stabilize her.
He laughed, and it made her chest feel even warmer than the alcohol had. “You’re even drunker than I’d realized.”
Yes, she was. She was very, very drunk and he was very, very close. And she wanted very, very much for him to be even closer.
She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment, she could have sworn he kissed her back. But then he took her by the shoulder and carefully pushed her off, holding her at an arm’s length.
“Evie,” he said slowly, tauntingly. “You’re super drunk.”
“I know,” she admitted, leaning forward and pecking his lips again. “But I already wanted to do that when I wasn’t drunk.” She tried to kiss him again, but this time, he was ready and able to stop her before she could reach him.
Only then did it dawn on her that he was rejecting her. Her stomach dropped. But she had thought…
“But…” she started, stumbling over her own words. It was unsurprising with the state she was in. “But I thought…” She swallowed. “I thought you’d want this.”
He patted her shoulder gently, once, twice. “You know, I’m not totally sure what ‘this’ is, but I probably do.” His voice sounded a little as if he were explaining something to a child. “Let’s just take a rain check on it for tonight, okay? And then, tomorrow, or maybe the day after, whenever your inevitable hangover’s done with, we’ll still have time, okay? You’re sad and drunk. Said so yourself.”
“I am sad and drunk,” Evie conceded in a small voice, looking down at her feet. She took a small, shaky step backwards to put a little more space between them both. The rejection already stung now. She did not even want to think about what it would feel like when she was sober again. “I think I just wanna go to bed.”
He helped her down the ladder and back inside the shack. Everything was a little blurry at this point. One moment there was a hand against her lower back, keeping her steady as she climbed down. The next, Butch was helping her out of her boots and jacket. Then, she had rolled into a little ball on the bed. Her head was spinning when she closed her eyes, but she was so tired she simply braved through it. Within moments, sleep had caught up with her.
A few feet away, Butch settled in for the night on a worn armchair, wondering when exactly he had become the type of man to turn down an opportunity like this. It had not even been as difficult at all. The idea of exploiting Evie’s moment of weakness held less than no attraction for him.
What he did enjoy was the newfound knowledge that she had, in fact, thought about kissing him – and perhaps more – while sober. That idea was so much nicer, he thought, and soon fell asleep.