Longing!Romanceable Fallout 4 Companions and How They Deal with Jealousy - Part 1
Character/Ships: Cait/Sole Survivor // Curie/Sole Survivor // Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor // Porter Gage/Sole Survivor (see Part 2 for Hancock, MacCready, Piper, and Preston.) Series: Fallout 4 Word Count: 164 (intro) // 653 (Cait) // 685 (Curie) // 692 (Danse) // 753 (Gage)
TW: Alcohol (all), suggestive themes (Cait/Gage), gratuitous foul language (Gage)
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Night had settled over Goodneighbor like a velvet shadow. The town's Third Rail was as busy as always, with many of the regular drunkards and miscreants chatting away obnoxiously at the bar, spilling their drinks and picking fights - much to the chagrin of the bartender, Whitechapel Charlie, who only tolerated them as much as their bottlecaps would allow. In the corner, Magnolia crooned an old jazz tune into the microphone, the stage surrounding her lit up in a dazzling array of lights as if the stage was tailor-made for her and her form-fitting red dress. The scattered, worn lounges, tables, and chairs were mostly occupied with a variety of wastelanders taking the opportunity to wind down for the night and relax in Goodneighbor's favourite drinking establishment.
The night had not settled over two residents nearly as well as their surroundings. In the VIP lounge just off the main floor, a quiet word was taking place between the Sole Survivor of Vault 111 and...
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[Cait]
...the cranky redhead that they had been travelling with for the past several months. The night had started out innocently enough - well, as innocently as a steady flow of whiskey and vodka would allow, of course. Cait and Sole indulged in a variety of liquor, trading stories and playing simple drinking games that usually ended in uproarious laughter and the demands for yet another round.
As the time ticked on, Cait had left their booth in the middle of the room and offered to grab the next round, and as she waited at the bar for Charlie to pour their drinks, she looked over her shoulder to see Sole pouting at a bloke maybe twice their age that had meandered over to the table. Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw him pass Sole a glass of something brown and almost certainly alcoholic, and she felt her face heat up as Sole accepted the drink with a smile. A smile that Cait had been secretly hoping was reserved only for her.
A familiar feeling of anger bubbled inside her, simmering just below the surface of her freckled skin as her chest ached with irritation. Or was it longing?
She didn't want to think about it.
Instead, despite herself, she watched on as the man slid into the lounge next to them, and Sole laughed. Laughed!
Cait grunted as Charlie handed her two glasses of bourbon and she downed hers in one swig before marching back to the table. Wobbly and inebriated, she nearly decked the poor wastelander before Sole stopped her, catching her as she instead fell harmlessly into their arms.
"A bit too much?" Sole chuckled, but their laughter was cut short as they were greeted by the fire in Cait's eyes. She scrambled to her feet and jabbed a long sharp finger into the stranger's chest, mumbling a threat into his ear.
The strangers' expression immediately changed from one of confidence to one of concern, and he drummed his fingers against his glass impatiently.
Sole pinched their nose and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
"Please excuse us," they said to the stranger as they dragged Cait into the VIP lounge and pushed her into the lounge. The room spun and Cait groaned as she placed her head in her hands. Was she coming down already?
"What's gotten into you?" Sole's expression was one of compassion. It was a look that Cait was not used to seeing, and in that moment, she realised that she resented it. She resented the feelings that it brought in her. She resented how her heart was hammering in her chest at the close proximity of the object of her desires. She resented how she was so utterly unworthy of anything that could happen between them.
With that in mind, Cait spat out the only thing that came to mind.
"He was gonna take advantage of ya, ya idiot."
Sole rolled their eyes. "Maybe I wanted him to…"
Cait's mind short-circuited.
"…Or maybe," Sole shrugged, and Cait almost missed the mischievous glint in their eye, "I just wanted to take advantage of the free drinks and wind up even more drunk than you for a change!"
The redhead may have been inebriated, but she was almost positive that she wasn't misinterpreting the situation as she bolted upright and squinted suspiciously at her friend. "You mean to say you weren't into him?"
Sole chortled. "God, no. I mean, the free drinks, though...?" They winked, and this time, Cait laughed alongside them.
Perhaps this wouldn't be the night that they would wind up in bed together, limbs entangled and bodies flush as they pandered to desires often indulged behind closed doors and under night's cover, but for tonight, as she held a thoroughly sloshed Sole in the VIP lounge, this night was enough for Cait. In fact, it was more than enough.
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[Curie]
...their cheerful synth companion. The original plan for the night was for Sole to show Curie a more human approach to life and living, to introduce her to alcohol for the first time. Sole had promised that they would not go overboard - "Just one or two drinks, maybe some dancing, then we can go back to the Rexford" - but the pair had stayed at the Third Rail for almost three hours just dancing to Magnolia's tunes before a drink had even been mentioned.
Funnily enough however, the suggestion of a drink was not mentioned by either of them, but rather an attractive young woman. The stranger slunk in between the pair with a glass of wine in each hand; a light dusting of freckles painted her cheeks and shoulders, and soft brown curls framed her face. Effortlessly elegant, Curie thought, as the woman offered them both a drink. Well, more precisely, she passed Curie a drink, and asked Charlie at the bar to fetch another wine as she took a sip from hers and leaned against the counter, chatting to Sole as she did so. Curie pursed her lips but said nothing as Sole chuckled half-heartedly, thanking her for the offer.
As the synth gingerly took a taste of the drink, Sole and the stranger next to her appeared to be in deep conversation. Something was deeply unpleasant regarding the interaction, but Curie could not put her finger on why that would be. She enjoyed Sole’s company. She enjoyed the idea of making a new friend – especially here in the Commonwealth, where it seemed like every second person was a Raider or a Gunner with a desire for blood and no mercy to share. Perhaps she was irritated at the lack of care the stranger had shown towards Sole, not sharing the two glasses she had before ordering one for herself.
As she watched the woman bat her eyelashes at her friend, she felt a twang in her heart. The wine tasted bitter, and the alcoholic burn gripped her throat like a vice. She suddenly didn’t feel like drinking. Placing down her glass on the edge of the bar, she observed Sole as they returned the stranger’s odd behaviour with an equally odd act that made her heart clench even more; they placed their arm on the strangers’ own and smirked. Blood rushed in her ears. Why did she feel so unsettled by this?
Shaking her head, unwilling to see any more, she hurried into the VIP lounge, where she found solace in the isolated room of the Third Rail. She clutched her face as if to ground herself, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping in her tears. Such human emotions were too strange, too foreign for her. Too intense.
“Curie?”
She yelped in surprise to see that Sole had followed her into the lounge. Oh, of course they had, she realised. They were her friend. Friends help each other.
The word ‘friend’ felt as bitter as the wine from earlier.
“I don’t understand what I’m feeling.” She confessed. “It was so painful when you talked to her. I’m still learning all of these new things. It’s difficult.”
Sole immediately nodded and brushed a loose strand of hair off Curie’s pale face, “I’m sorry, Curie, I hadn’t realised.”
Sole’s hand on her face was electric, and she absentmindedly wondered if Sole could feel the heat spreading across her cheek. Their eyes sparkled in the low light of the lounge, and they were almost close enough to…
…To what?
All too soon, the spell had been broken as Sole pulled away, shaking their head. “You felt left out. You felt excluded. That was on me, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. Why don’t we have another dance, to make up for it?”
Ah, yes. That must have been what it was. Excluded. Curie ignored the doubt buzzing in the back of her mind as she followed Sole, hand in hand, back to the dancefloor.
After all, who was she to doubt someone as knowledgeable and as wonderful as Sole?
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[Danse]
…the ex-Brotherhood Paladin. Earlier that day, much to Danse’s chagrin and to the surprise of everyone in their mutual social circle, Sole had convinced Danse to spend a night away from the bunker, to spend it in the fresh air and freedom and the multitudes of alcohol that only Goodneighbor and its premiere bar could provide. Unlike his superior in the Brotherhood, Danse had never been one to indulge in a beer or whiskey, but in his current circumstance, with the knowledge of his true identity hanging over him like an angry ghost, he reluctantly accepted Sole’s offer of a drink.
Perhaps it was the way that Sole’s fingers grazed his own as they passed him their first bourbon. Perhaps it was the way the light caught their eyes as the corners crinkled with each delightful expression that was painted on their face. Perhaps it was the way his companion sighed contentedly into their drink as they listened to Magnolia’s music. When he cracked a dry witticism and they turned and smiled at him, his heart almost leapt to his throat as he stumbled over his words.
Here, in the Third Rail, surrounded by drunkards and commoners, with his saviour by his side, he almost felt human.
Almost.
He pushed away the ugly thoughts creeping into his mind as he took another swig of bourbon. Side-eyeing the person next to them, he swallowed the burning liquid alongside the newfound disgust bubbling in his chest and he excused himself from their table to procure another drink from the bar. Too enraptured in Magnolia’s performance, Sole nodded happily and produced a few caps to buy a drink for the two of them. Grunting a thanks, he wandered to the bar and dumped the caps on the wooden counter.
“Careful,” Charlie tutted, “You’ll scratch my bar!”
“Vodka. Two.” Danse ignored the comment from the bartender. He almost found himself chuckling at how ridiculous the notion was; a robot, chiding a synth. He surely didn’t deserve to be out here, enjoying this freedom. What had Sole seen in him to spare him that fateful day? What could Sole possibly see in him now, as he sat stewing in bitter, unhappy thoughts?
What could he make them see in him?
When Charlie had returned with the drinks, the tipsy ex-Paladin was still in a trance. He had pushed any such inappropriate thoughts of Sole out of his mind for the longest time, but perhaps the alcohol was loosening him up a bit more than he had expected. He turned, drinks in hand, to head back to his table.
He really hadn’t expected to see the most attractive man this side of the Commonwealth at their table.
Danse seethed as he watched Sole chatting to the man, his arm around their shoulders. The man seemed to be almost smirking down at Sole as he leaned down and whispered something in their ear, eliciting a giggle from them. A giggle!
He was furious.
He was furious with himself.
Not wishing to disturb any further, he quietly placed Sole’s drink on the table before slinking off the VIP lounge as quietly as he could muster. He knew that the object of his affections deserved better than what he could offer, and he was a big enough man to step aside, at least for the evening.
Danse had been sitting in the dark, nursing his vodka for a good ten minutes before Sole had tracked them down. Out of breath, and with the beginnings of an inebriated blush on their face, they stumbled over their words.
“God, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time, and then I realised you weren’t with me, and-“
Danse held up his hand. “No need to apologise. You were, uh, preoccupied.”
Sole’s blush deepened, but they waved it off. “Regardless, I would rather spend time with you over someone I don’t even know.”
“Oh?” He quipped, quirking an eyebrow.
Sole only nodded, sitting down next to him and clinking his bottle with their own. “So, here’s to good company.”
Danse hummed in agreement, ignoring his heart surging in his chest. “Outstanding.”
To good company indeed.
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[Gage]
…the most intimidating man in the Third Rail. It all began earlier that evening as the sun touched the horizon, and only the brightest dusting of stars had painted the twilit sky; the Overboss and their second-in-command were passing through Goodneighbor, and Sole suggested they unwind at the local watering hole. Ham growled a warning to the pair as they made their way down the stairs, and Gage tossed a careless obscenity back before Sole shushed him.
“C’mon, you wanna get kicked out before we can even get a drink?”
“Well shit, boss,” Gage shrugged, a playful smile ghosting his lips. “Is that a challenge?”
The two raiders quickly settled comfortably into the empty VIP lounge, away from the prying eyes of the public. Gage sunk into one of the plush chairs and Sole draped themselves over a lounge, sipping a Nuka-Cola.
“Dunno how you can still stomach that.” He muttered as he shook his head, eyeing the carbonated drink. He watched Sole’s motion as they rose it to their lips and swallowed. He swallowed with them.
Sole wiped their mouth and raised an eyebrow, shooting their companion a questioning glance. “Thirsty, Gage?”
“Yeah.” Gage smirked and looked away. “You could say that.”
“Then get us something to drink.”
“Booze dulls the senses, boss. Gotta be alert, ‘specially in a place like this.”
Sole shook their head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it before. ‘You’ve seen raiders lose their minds over the stuff.’” They absentmindedly traced the letters of the Nuka-Cola logo with their fingers and allowed their gaze to wander from the lounge to the main area. “You’re no fun, you know that?”
Gage grunted. “I’m loads of fun, boss.”
‘Why don’t you find out just how much ‘fun’ I can be?’
“If you’re not game, then I’m hitting the bar by myself. I’ll be back.” Sole shrugged as they rose from the lounge and stretched, their back arching against the door frame, before tossing a coy look over their shoulder. “Don’t wait up!”
“Ha-ha.” The raider snarked, rolling his eye. His gaze dropped to Sole’s backside as they sauntered to the bar, and if he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn they were showing off.
Still, if he had an ass like that, he would flaunt it as well.
Gage sat and stewed in his thoughts for an eternity, waiting for the Overboss to return. Fiddling with the bolts at the front of his armour as he kicked back in the old chair, his mind drifted to Nuka-World. The raiders under the Overboss would be well taken care of now they were expanding to the Commonwealth, and there would be a steady flow of crops and caps coming their way. It was unbelievable just how efficient his plan had been.
It certainly helped that the right person wandered into the Gauntlet at just the right time.
Gage was in high spirits until he peered out from the VIP lounge and saw Sole with some stranger getting too close for comfort. What was the Overboss even doing, paying attention to a lowly settler?
Suddenly, he saw them raise their hand and touch the stranger’s shoulder as the wastelander handed them drink. Were they flirting?
Annoyed, Gage stormed over to the pair, and, without warning, he grabbed the hair on the back of the stranger’s head and smashed their face into the counter. The Third Rail fell silent for only a moment before the Overboss jumped from their seat and grabbed Gage by his armour, dragging him back into the VIP Lounge and ignoring Whitechapel Charlie’s cries of protests. ‘Someone’s going to have to help me clean up this blood stain you left!’
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sole growled.
“The hell were you doing? You know we ain’t here to make friends.” Gage tripped over his words as he felt the familiar heat of shame cross his cheeks. “We gotta get a move-on if we intend to arrive at Nuka-World before sun-up.”
The Overboss sighed, their shoulders slumping alongside the movement. “Yeah, you’re right.”
‘Phew.’
Gage chuckled darkly into his armour as he adjusted the chains around his leg. He understood the Overboss would never even look twice in his direction in the way that he did them – God knows he didn’t deserve the privilege – but he was at peace with that; so long as he could keep the less worthy wastelanders thinking the same.
“I know I am, boss. Let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”