Kinkmeme fill-in from LiveJournal.

Summary: From a young age Butch loathes the uniform lifestyle expected of him in the Vault and decides to do anything it takes to deviate from it. When the doc's kid starts doing the same he finds himself captivated; and Butch doesn't know what to do about it. Butch/F!LW

Characters: Butch, F!LW, almost all other residents of Vault 101 as side characters.

Relationship: Hetero with mentions of femslash

Kinks: Hopefully all the OP listed; Firsts, coming of age and gentle smut.

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"Chaper One: Standing Out"

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Truth be told, Butch didn't remember when they "met". With Vault 101's dwindling population it seemed you were simply born knowing everyone who lived there. This was especially true for children of the same age—all the kids went to the same classrooms, same cafeteria, same everything.

Even as a six year old Butch knew this uniform lifestyle wasn't for him. He hated how his jumpsuit was identical to his mother's in every way except size, how the menu selection in the cafeteria hadn't seemed to change since he was born (or since his mother was born,when he asked), and he hated how every hallway was identical to the last with their metallic walls reflecting the artificial lighting above.

But most of all, he hated how this would be his life until the day he died.

Because in Vault 101: no one ever enters, and no one ever leaves.

Butch's disillusioned view on Vault life most likely stemmed from his mother's alcoholic mood swings. She could be an overly doting mother one moment that showered Butch in affection and the occasional gift before doing an about-face as soon as her lips met her trademark flask. Her mood would become volatile and she'd spew all sorts of verbal abuse at her son.

Ellen Deloria would toss out the toys she had given him, screaming that it was his fault his father was gone. On occasion she would even get physical with Butch; He still had a bruise from when he hadn't cleaned the dishes right after she asked.

His mother's two-faced behavior left Butch with confused and conflicted, but over time he became jaded to it. He stopped crying early on and faced his mother's addiction with a stiff lip and dark eyes.

Had Butch ever been taken to see the Vault's Doctor, James Wickham, Butch might have been diagnosed with Vault Depression Syndrome. But Butch's mother never made him an appointment unless it was a mandatory check-up, and the weeks leading up to it were always far more pleasant for Butch. Ellen was probably being careful not to leave any discriminating marks on her son so Doctor Wickham wouldn't start asking questions.

So it was Ellen Deloria who would stumble into the clinic when injured, usually by her own fault. Most recently she had stumbled over her own feet, smashing her chin into her dresser hard enough to chip her front tooth. She sobbed on the floor until Butch called for help, watching security drag his mom off to get checked out.

That was his life's routine. It was a special kind of hell in comparison to the other Vault residents, but it was the only life he knew. He felt himself fading away, losing track of the days and weeks as he cleaned after his mother or laid in bed.

It wasn't until he started school Butch finally found his outlet; He met other boys his age, Wally Mack and Paul Hannon Jr., who were just as restless with their lives as Butch was. As Butch began acting up in class so did the other boys, forging a kinship almost immediately.

Butch would launch spitballs into Amata Almodovar's hair, write crude jokes on his homework and interrupt class with often inappropriate remarks or mock-questions before being sent off to the corner of the class, a dunce hat sitting on top of his head.

But he didn't care. It got him attention. Over time, it got him respect from the other boys. He became a leader of those rebelling against the system at an incredibly young age. He thought himself as the first to break free of the Vault's societal chains.

And then she strode into class and one-upped his entire group in fifth grade.

"B...blue?"

Butch looked from doodling rather offensive illustrations on his unfinished homework up toMr. Brotch, his incredulous tone catching his attention. He and his gang followed their teacher's gaze, twisting their bodies as the doctor's kid strode in, head held high.

Butch took in the sight, unaware his jaw had dropped.

Sybil Wickham, Amata's best friend, had dyed her once-brown hair a deep shade of blue. Butch hadn't seen anything like it in his life.

"Yep!" she responded in a chipper voice. She didn't look even a little bashful. In fact, she seemed to exhibit great pride in her daring color-change. "I thought it'd be cool to make it match my jumpsuit—I wanted to start standing out more."

She had definitely succeeded, Butch thought, unable to take his eyes off the young Wickham as she made her way to her usual desk in front of Amata. The Overseer's daughter looked just as surprised as the rest of class, looking over her friend in stunned silence. It looked like Sybil hadn't let her in on the plan.

Before this moment Butch hadn't paid much mind to Sybil. She was just an occasional target of his pranks, like the rest of the class (with Amata being the biggest target for him and his friends due to her relation to the Overseer). Sybil had been a nobody, just another face that blended in, another voice he'd hear answer a question or two in class.

Today though—today changed everything. There was a surge of awe coursing through Butch's veins and his heart painfully pounded against his chest. He felt a tinge of envy spiking in the back of his skull, but admiration overpowered it.

He wanted—no, he needed to talk to her. He wanted her to join his group of rebels as they rebelled against the norm. But right as he opened his mouth to suggest it to the others, Wally spoke up.

"The bitch looks like an idiot."

Butch turned his head towards Wally, blinking when he saw his open expression of disgust. Wally's words made Butch's throat tighten. "Blue? Who dyes their hair blue? In fact, who dyes their hair all?"

"Yeah, she really overdid it," Paul agreed, albeit a little timidly. He always went along with what either Butch or Wally said, making him a bit of a pushover.

Butch felt his mind draw a blank at their reactions. He didn't understand them—Sibyl sat there across the room exhibiting what he had believed his group stood for. But the other boys were now staring him down, expectation in their eyes. If he didn't agree he risked the respect he had worked so hard to earn, so he swallowed and took a deep breath.

"She's trying to outdo us," Butch said, his gaze returning to Sibyl. "We'll have to show her we can't be outdone."

He had apparently said the right thing because the other two nodded in agreement beside him, Wally leaning back to rest his arm on the back of his seat. Butch's respect had been secured, but at the cost of approaching the girl that had piqued his curiosity.

But he wouldn't turn back now. When class started Butch tore a piece of paper off of his unfinished homework, wadding it up before sticking it in his mouth. He pulled out a straw he had taken from the cafeteria, turning towards Sybil when Mr. Brotch had his back turned.

He brought the straw to his lips and fired, hitting his blue target with ease.

From that day forward Butch wouldn't leave Sibyl Wickham alone.

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A/N First time posting on this site so I'm sorry if I messed up something! Hopefully I can keep a semi-regular/quick update on this-and I hope it's off to a good start!