A/N: I'm trash, sorry not sorry.
This was just a small thing I threw together in light of Chapter 20 in my main story involving these characters, Inventor's Absolution! Read on at your own risk as the remainder of this author's note, as well as this fic, will contain major story spoilers and if you don't want to ruin such surprises (or want to know what the hell everyone's talking about) please at least read Inventor's Absolution up until Chapter 19 - Little Talks at the very least! It's not necessary if you don't care about spoilers but I still recommend it!
SPOILER START: So in light of the F.A.M.I.L.Y. Initiative pairing Winona and Butch together, I've always had nagging thoughts about what would happen if they went through with the arranged marriage because James decided not to leave the vault for Purity. The start of the first part of this fic involves pieces of dialogue taken from Chapter 19 so it will officially start from the moment in James' office when Winona came to visit him.
Valentine's Day is also a couple days away, and because I'm bad at romance and sappy stuff (but I still wanted to put up something for the occasion) I quick whipped this up to post for readers. There's another chapter or two to this so don't get to the end and worry that there's nothing to follow! I promise there will be! Please review so I know you're interested in seeing more ;)
So without further ado, enjoy the story! And if you like more holiday stuff, check out my Christmas fic with these two dorks, Yuletide Yearnings from some Christmas cheer and fuzzies.
Happy reading, happy writing!
~Konfessionist signing out
August 16th, 2277
"I had to come and see you."
Her statement struck the doctor with a nervous dagger—did she know he was leaving?
"I dunno, I had a weird feeling—something just told me to come see you."
He knew he'd reveal too much to her.
"Things like how I'm not going to be around forever, Nona."
They'd talk about outside, and then he'd explain that he was a scientist, and then he would have to tell her—
"...Promise me you're not going anywhere."
—want to tell her—
"I won't be around to hold your hand forever, and when the time does come that I'm gone, I don't want you to be unprepared for it. I don't want it to hurt you like—..."
—all about Project Purity and the good that they were trying to accomplish.
"...Like how it hurt you when mom died."
Then he would want to bring her with him.
"Butch and I talked about this. About staying together and going through with the marriage."
At that moment, it was only them and not even leaving mattered.
"Dad—... do you ever have that feeling that—"
I am Alpha and Omega
"—It's like the 'beginning of the end'?"
The beginning, and the end.
"Like—Like everything is going up in flames around you—"
I will give unto him that is athirst
"—because it's building up to—"
Of the fountain of the water of life
"—something—"
Freely.
"Worse?"
The door remained open after Winona left his office, and he only had a mere moment to torture his thoughts with exchanged words of their conversation before Jonas entered, lingering near the doorway silently for the doctor to speak up. James thought of Catherine's smile, the rapidly dimming look in her eyes when she departed from her earthly being, the mournful look in Madison's face despite the hateful words she cut him with, and that last glance he took over his shoulder to the Wasteland before Vault 101 closed him in with his screaming infant and a couple of escort guards. Paladin Cross remained on the other side in her civilian attire, which was off-putting in comparison to her clean cut looks of a soldier and the massive modified sledgehammer on her back, planting a curled fist against her chest with the muttered blessing of 'Steel be with you'.
When he finally looked to his assistant, there was a knowing look in the younger man's eyes that almost condemned James.
Despite all their planning and hard work, the years of experiments run in secret and all the precautions they utilized, the challenges they faced in fixing time cards and avoiding Security, the good work they did in the name of Project Purity...
Jonas knew he wasn't going to leave.
The last conversation he had with his child confirmed his fears—her being forced to go through with the marriage to Butch DeLoria, even though they were trying to take control of something so far out of their hands. He meant it when he said it felt like she was playing with fire. What else could be done? It was an untameable situation that seemed even out of Alphonse's control and it was burning everything in it's wake, making blackened marks upon everything that could never be removed.
Winona, the light of his life, needed him now more than ever. He couldn't bring himself to leave knowing the fate that would come upon her down in Vault 101; if Alphonse had any authority or even say in how the F.A.M.I.L.Y. Initiative would pan out, sooner or later his daughter would be forced to succumb to the duties that were expected of a female resident, unless she was saved by some miracle. Perhaps escaping with her wasn't such a selfish choice in light of that realization after all—of course it was a terrifying world out there full of things that were bred to want to hurt her, but at least she had freedom. At least she could have found love outside of the arms of someone she once despised, under the guise of a forced civic duty.
James had also heard that Amata, Alphonse's own daughter, tried to convince him of the same thing... obviously to no avail.
"What're you gunna do, doc?" Jonas asked quietly as he finally stepped up to the desk. "You thought about—... maybe taking her with you?"
"...I can't...what was I even thinking, Jonas? In trying to leave?" He lamented in response as he reclined back into his office chair, removing his glasses to toss them on top of his desk and then he pressed the heel of his palm to his eye in exhaustion. "Even if I could make this work again, Project Purity can't be revived without the team and I don't know if Madison is still in D.C.. I don't know if she's alive. I don't know if anyone is still alive, and if they are, if they're even willing to return. I betrayed them by leaving but what choice did I have?"
"You did it for the kid—and I hate to break it to you, James, but she's an adult now. Whatever happens with this Initiative is out of our hands, and you being here isn't going to change what could happen. She's pretty resolved about how she thinks she wants this to play out with DeLoria."
"I don't know what she's trying to do... what good she's hoping will come from all that."
"Look—the point is this is her choice, and you know what? It's probably picking the lesser of so many evils. You can't hold yourself responsible for whatever decisions she makes for herself in light of this, even if we don't agree or even like it." Jonas sighed with a meek shake of his head.
"How can I not feel responsible for her well being? Knowing that she's going through with this nauseating farce I can't just leave, what kind of father would I be? I can't abandon her now when she needs me most."
"You're not abandoning her, doc."
"Then what would you call it?"
"...I dunno." Jonas replied silently with his hand finding the back of his neck as he averted his eyes in thought. "But trust me, it isn't that. Project Purity is important to you and you can't hold yourself hostage to what's happening down here. If you do, you're never gonna recover."
"Jonas—..." James sighed with some measure of frustration, trying to gather the appropriate words on his tongue. "Project Purity isn't more important than my child. If it was, then I would still be out there trying to make a dying dream work—a dream that, in the end, people stopped believing in. I made a decision when I entered 101 to stand by Winona no matter what, and I promised Catherine I'd do whatever it takes to protect her. She needs me now and I couldn't take her outside, I couldn't do that to her... hell, I probably wouldn't fair any better myself now—after sitting comfortably in the luxuries of a Pre-War time capsule for 20 years. I've gotten old and—... and sentimental."
"I think there's a word specifically for that." The younger man quipped in an effort at a lighthearted joke.
"Jonas," He sighed.
"Just think about this carefully, alright? If that's all you could do for yourself, then do that." Jonas ushered cautiously. "We still have a couple weeks until the great escape so you've got time to really think about this. You want my honest opinion?"
"Always, my friend."
"If you don't at least try to resurrect Project Purity, I think you're going to regret it. Really regret it."
"I know I will," James responded blandly as he rose from his reclined chair and skirted around his desk to the technician's side. "But at the end of the day—... she's more than worth it."
"...So your decision's final, huh?" He muttered.
"As final as the grave." James responded assuredly but it was lightly threaded by a bleak tone.
His assistant nodded in understanding despite the pursing of his mouth, like he had something else he wanted to say. It was thickly swallowed back, however, when he clapped a hand on the doctor's shoulder silently, as if in offering his condolences, and then left the office without another ushered word. When James turned back to his desk he picked up a framed picture he had of Winona; it was his favorite photo of her as it was her graduation portrait, and she had a beaming smile on her face with eyes alight in the same way Catherine's would come alive when she tried to conceal her pride. Her dimples were so prominent then and his finger idly traced the photo's frame... he knew he loved that photo so much because she looked so much like Catherine in it, it was reassuring and yet unnerving all in one touching photo.
The good doctor could have chalked up his sudden withdrawal from their plans being an act of the proverbial 'cold feet', and perhaps it was, but something about the conversation he had with his daughter struck him with a poignant realization; a lot of his plans once emerging topside all relied on whether or not everyone was still alive, around, or willing to return to Project Purity side by side with him. Not to mention if James survived long enough to find where everyone scattered after the loss at Jefferson Memorial, because he really had gotten along in his age and he definitely wasn't as fit as he used to be.
James truly believed that the only way Purity could survive a second attempt was if the main scientists from the original team would return for a second try, regardless of Brotherhood backing (although that would most definitely be welcome).
If Agincourt was still around being his old prickly self, he doubt the man would want to come back unless James could convince Madison firstly... but in that way, his old friend would be even harder than him to appease. Out of everyone in the project he wronged her the most in leaving, even if it was for the good of Winona. In part his exit also catered to the selfishness in his mourning over Catherine, his anxiety over the lack of successful results, and with how the Brotherhood of Steel were surely abandoning them he'd much rather let the mutants keep Jefferson than face head on the destruction of the dream he and Catherine had devoted so much of themselves to.
There were so many factors in play back then in his leaving, but most of the time it was difficult to remind himself that it really wasn't his fault. There was a lot he ran away from back then, that he wanted to flush from his conscious thoughts by constantly burying himself in paperwork, constantly working long hours instead of being home, constantly drinking back then. Vault 101 wasn't just protecting his child, but it was also shielding him from all that heartbreak. James had always been an emotionally weak man and he knew that.
Catherine was more than just his partner in life—she really was his better half. She was stronger, patient, nurturing and kind, brave, and seemed to be the one thing that kept Purity afloat in the face of all the failures and naysayers. She was the only one who stayed optimistic right up until the bitter end and every member of the team silently appreciated her for it... James didn't realize until much later that he wasn't the only one who lost a valued companion back then.
He finally laid Winona's graduation photo face down on his desk—unable to stand seeing Catherine's face a moment longer, unable to face another addition to his regrets for the good of his daughter.
August 20th, 2277
The 'wedding' day had been scheduled much sooner than anyone was told—much sooner than the original set date of September 1st.
The inventor stepped into the atrium with her father and Jonas on either side of her, lethargy clinging to her bones in what felt like an unshakable straight jacket because what was sleep the day before your forced wedding? For the next week the atrium would be sparsely decorated for shotgun ceremonies with only a few rows of chairs for attendees and the officiator's podium, which was pinned with white draping ribbons and fake pale yellow roses. Winona regarded the scene with some distaste, as it added to the already revolting situation and she found even the mild decorations to be in poor taste; how did the Overseer think it was a good idea to even attempt turning the travesty into some formal event through it all? She definitely would've preferred having to sit beside Butch and sign the paperwork than include herself in this whole debacle with exchanging wedding bands mass produced by maintenance in recent days, and being told that she had to partake in the Trade.
The Trade was a long held Vault 101 tradition where a couple on their wedding day would exchange their most valued possession with the other. The Trade was supposed to symbolize their lifelong devotion to the other person, as well as showing trust in allowing them to have such a sentimental belonging of their partner's. The inventor always found the ritual to be rather touching at it's core, but in a situation like this?
She and Butch already discussed over Pip-Boy chat that they weren't doing that, so she showed up with nothing and expected him to do the same whenever he arrived.
"Are you absolutely sure that you want to go through with this, Winona?" Her father asked in a voice that was gently trying to dissuade her. "We can take this to the Overseer and overturn it."
"Yeah, kiddo—I've got my torches around here somewhere if you feel like leading a mob, because I know I do." Jonas tacked on humorously. His go-to responses in any case where he was anxious but trying to be supportive was cracking jokes. She chuckled anyways just to humor him but her dad only looked exhausted with a small shake of his head, his fingers pressing into his closed eyes.
"I'll leave that to cross off my bucket list another day when I'm not getting married." She replied as cheerily as she could manage.
"Nona, I'm serious about this. You still have a chance to change your mind." Her dad interrupted with a much firmer voice than the one he utilized before. His grayed brow crinkled over his hazel eyes where absolute dread lurked in them.
In recent days he was beginning to look more and more like his age, which was worrying. Something about that terrified and helpless look he gave her made her throat tighten and her heart grow heavy. It wounded her more than this whole frivolous display, and she idly glanced to the officiator at his podium—Officer Kendrick, who was on temporary suspension from Security—thumbing through his copy of the bible. He looked like he was trying not to listen to the conversation between the three and she caught his eyes ducking from hers right when she happened to look up.
"Dad, I'm fine. I'm fine with all this and so is Butch." There was more she wanted to say, but she knew if she said anything further she'd divulge too much.
Of course they were both terrified by the marriage, but telling herself that she was completely okay was the only thing that kept her from second guessing her choice to go through with the union; if she refused to go through with the F.A.M.I.L.Y. Initiative at all, she could only imagine what kind of punishment the Overseer's wrath would incur. She made the realization a very long time ago the she was never going to be in love, she was never going to be happily married with someone she wanted to start a family with, and she made her peace with that shortly after coming to terms with the fact that she no longer loved Freddie. This all came before discovering his philandering with Susie Mack.
Winona knew that her dad and Jonas were just trying to protect her, but their constant prodding of 'are you fine?' was drawing her toward a panic attack. The less she thought about it, the better she could handle everything.
So when the atrium door opened and their eyes pivoted toward the intruder, she forced herself to swallow the lump rising in her throat like a scream when Butch DeLoria strut into the room. Something about how lax he looked calmed her down a little, as if his mere presence was some kind of comforting force to her; but when she saw the tension in his eyes the closer he came to them, it only sent her nerves skyrocketing to insurmountable levels once more.
"I'm gonna talk to Butch," She muttered to her father before gesturing to the Tunnel Snake to stay put. He did so at the door, rocking back on a heel as he idly glanced around the atrium in wait for her to come over. "I'll be right back."
Her dad let her go to Butch with very little fuss and the two stepped back through the door from where he just entered, standing out in the hallway. Not until the door shut behind them, leaving Jonas and her dad watching them with mildly forlorn looks when they thought she wasn't looking, did she finally speak up.
"Where's your mom?" Winona asked. "Isn't she coming?"
"Nah," Butch replied in a slightly wounded voice that he tried to conceal behind some measure of bravado. She knew without him having to explain why Ellen wasn't there—she probably wasn't sober enough for him to want her there, especially with her own family present to judge.
"...I'm sorry, Butch."
"Hey, no skin off my nose... rather she not be here, anyway. This whole thing's screwy." He shrugged idly. His mother was probably the only thing he could have during the ceremony that would ground him, and here she was lucky to have men like her dad and Jonas at her back while she signed her life away.
Winona didn't feel sorry because she knew how much Butch hated pity, especially from her with their history, but her heart went out to him; she'd offer the support of her own family but for her dad to be cordial with him was as likely as rainfall in the vault.
"This is it. You ready? Or—... are you having second thoughts at all—?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," He popped the collar on his jacket casually, but the tension in his eyes took a flying leap before simmering. "Damn, don't wig me out or anythin', girl."
She knew him well enough to recognize that he was coping by pretending he wasn't bothered at all. It was a telltale defense mechanism of his. When Winona remained silent as if quietly accusing him of something, he pretended not to notice the condemning nature of her stare, and she was suddenly hit with the instinct of wanting to comfort him if he'd willingly do the same for her.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm just—alright, I—I've been thinking about this all morning, and I didn't get any sleep last night and I'm actually kinda freaking out—"
"What? Why?" His eyes snapped back up toward her. "You're not backin' out, are 'ya?"
"No, no, no! I—! Maybe, I don't know." She groaned miserably with a step away from him, the heels of her palms clapped over her eyes. "I don't know. Dad's been telling me all morning that I don't have to go through with it if I don't want to, and Jonas won't stop asking me if I'm fine and God dammit I thought I was, but I'm not. I'm not—... I'm not okay."
"You're not chicken shittin' your way outta this," He responded rigidly with a shake of his head. "I ain't letting 'ya, Parker."
"I—what're you saying?" Her eyes rounded in horror as she spun back on her heel to face him, her mind sparking with nothing but vexed confusion. "Are you saying that you expect me to go through with this even if I didn't want to? I—I thought we had a deal. We agreed that if one of us changed our minds we'd go to the Overseer for a rematch, no questions asked!"
"I'm makin' you do this 'cause you're acting like a fucking moron!" His hands came from out of his pockets in an angry gesture. "You know what you're doin'? You're psyching yourself out like you brainy types always do! Nothin' else changes after today! Just 'cause we're doing this doesn't mean shit anywhere else but on paper, you're worried 'bout nothing!"
"I can't believe that I'm hearing this from you," Winona cried with her brow furrowed tightly over her eyes and she barked back in a severe tone. "You are not strong-arming me into this if I say no!"
"Well, 'ya haven't said no, now, have 'ya, Smartmouth?" Butch's neck was beginning to flush red and she could see the nerves in his eyes being ignited, one by one, as his trademark anger began to flush through him.
"Why are you being like this? I thought you out of everyone would understand me," The admission was spat from her mouth as if it left a sour aftertaste and his eyes softened though his expression remained firmly set in it's cold look, as if he were forcing himself to remain unreadable.
With a shake of her head, she moved to storm past him back toward the atrium door.
"If that's how you think you can treat me, than I'm not doing this. I'm calling the whole thing off. I can't believe we ever thought we'd make it work—!"
Winona yelped out when Butch's hand latched onto her shoulder, spinning her about to face him before she could even take another step. She was suddenly being pinned back against the nearest wall with just enough force for her to realize that it was a suggestion that she not go anywhere, but he wasn't going to bar her from leaving if she really wanted to. Once her back hit the wall, she was trapped between his arms as his hands planted themselves above each of her shoulders and his stare aligned with hers straight on, leaving her transfixed and surely too stunned to want to avert her eyes. Though her mouth was parted to speak she couldn't fathom a single thing to say—any possible questions were strangled and left to die in her throat when she saw the protective expression on his grimacing face and the incensed glimmer to his narrowed eyes.
His arms were shaking on either side of her as he leaned in like he was going to tell her something meant to be kept as a dire secret.
This wasn't a side of Butch DeLoria she was familiar with.
This was the side of Butch DeLoria that had made itself known only once, and that was when Wally Mack assaulted her.
"If I let you walk away from this and you got put with Stevie Mack, I'd never fuckin' forgive myself." Butch spoke in a tight voice low in volume, sounding dangerous—almost mildly threatening—like it was a promise he could never turn his back on. "You hear me, Parker? 'Ya know what he'd do to you? What he'd let Wally do t'ya? You don't wanna hear the things Wally said he'd do if he had the chance and not a camera on him."
"Butch—..." She replied in equal whisper, her shock keeping her from saying anything of substance.
"I'm stupid enough for the both of us, I ain't need you to be actin' stupid, too." He responded as he leaned back away with his shaking arms dropping from around her, allowing her to go free finally. His eyes, which couldn't lift to meet hers as if he were ashamed, looked more harbor gray under the fluorescent lighting and the off-blue shade matched the stormy expression in his eyes too perfectly.
"You are not stupid," Winona strongly countered as she remained pressed back against the wall, watching his face. "...I thought you were staying so you wouldn't get put with Beatrice. Why didn't you just tell me it was because of me?"
"'Cause then 'ya woulda gotten all 'Goody-Goody Two Shoes' about it and probably tried t'break it off because you felt bad or whatever," He responded with an exasperated shake of his head and his gaze lifted toward the automatic door that led into the atrium. "You're always doin' shit like that."
"I do no—"
"If you're gunna try and deny it, don't bother," Butch snorted his response as if he found it somewhat funny and finally looked to her. The tension from earlier was gone from his eyes, replaced with newfound purpose as if he recognized what the hell he was doing there, about to marry his ex-arch nemesis. He was nearly smiling. "Can read you like a damn book, girlie."
"...Like I believe you ever stepped foot into the library willingly." She retorted halfheartedly instead and he fully grinned at that, shaking his head.
"See, and I wanted t'blow this damn tub open but nooo, you were a Goody-Two-Shoes about that, too! Bet Amata woulda helped me, even." He continued to tease and she slowly felt the anxiety leech itself from her body, disappearing somewhere faraway as she laughed at the dramatic gestures and expressions he made while he talked.
"We'll leave the anarchy for another day. Jonas wants to start a mob if you'd care to join, though."
"No shit, really? I'd be down. What's the Doomsday count down on that?"
"I dunno, but he says he already has the torches—so I think you guys just need to decide on whether or not you'd all wear matching outfits. Looks like you might've got that all figured out already, though." Winona responded as she pointed between their matching vault jumpsuits and Butch laughed in a heartfelt way. She liked hearing that particular laugh from him because it was rare, and she felt elation in knowing she could make it happen. It was a rare time where he felt wholesomely genuine, untroubled, and unguarded around her.
"So—..." He began uncertainly when their collective laughter died away. "You wanna go back t'not changin' your mind at all or what, Parker?"
"Like I have a choice if you have anything to say about it," She replied lightheartedly and with a small smile. "Let's go get married. Quick question, though."
"Shoot, girl."
"If they make us kiss—? To 'seal the deal'?"
"...How 'boutta handshake?" Butch swiftly resolved for the both of them.
"Too formal."
"What if it's a really cool handshake, though?"
"It'd have to be a super long and confusing one because I refuse to leave that atrium until everyone in there is as uncomfortable as we are. Like, at least until my dad clears his throat in that weird way that he does. Or Jonas makes an awful joke, whatever happens first."
"Shit, we ain't got time t'plan for that."
"...You think the officiator would settle for a fist bump?"
Butch grinned finally. "He's gunna have to."
August 20th, 2077 (cont'd)
Winona busied herself about her apartment in a flurry of panic with random possessions under one arm—dirty laundry, her tool satchel, a small trash bag for scattered snack cake wrappers and empty Nuka-Cola bottles—and in her opposite hand she read from a thick, laminated packet as she bustled about, picking up more garbage, aligning the chairs to the dinner table, and trying not to drop more heavy tools from her tool bag when it unfurled again.
The packet was titled; "The Official Vault-Tec Certified Booklet on How to Retain a Prosperous Union" and yes, that was the full title. Under the extremely wordy header was a graphic of a housewife in a gingham apron taking a hot pie from the oven, a husband just come home from work sitting before a delicious pot roast dinner at the table, and two blonde-haired children, a little boy and girl, sat on the kitchen floor with the beloved family dog. It looked like it was a lovingly painted portrait, more for a crowd of art critics than deserving to be slapped onto a pamphlet that should've been called; "How to Navigate a Marriage You Did Not Want Nor Ask For".
Just as wordy but twice as honest.
But that wasn't all. The booklet was a trilogy, with addendum books under the same 'Official Vault-Tec Certified' handle with the following titles of; "Wedded Life for a Doting Wife", and "The Rule Book on Ruling Your Household", respectively written for the wife and the husband. The booklet she was currently reading was written with the both of them in mind as a collective unit, and the things that were expected of them not only as a couple, but as their duty in being residents of Vault 101 and having to provide the next generation of 101'ers.
Winona read certain verses aloud when she couldn't believe what was written in front of her—still continuing to hurriedly clean her messy apartment as she did, as if she weren't conscious of doing so despite frantically working.
"Married couples are expected to utilize the first week of their union as efficiently as possible! We call this the 'Honeymoon Week' where new couples are allowed time off from work and other responsibilities so that they may spend valuable time together in the glow of their recent nuptials. During this week, couples are expected to bond, to participate in fun activities or similar hobbies of interest together, share their meals and a single bed, and to—ultimately—get started on creating the little birds that will soon fill their nest!"
She made an exaggerated retching noise upon the last sentence, her thumb bookmarking the page so she wouldn't lose it while she continued striding about her apartment to tidy. It was absolutely unbelievable that it was expected for them to spend their first week of 'marriage' together, with the Overseer's camera eye trained on her door to ensure that they'd cater to the procreation of their 'residential duties' for the F.A.M.I.L.Y. Initiative.
It was almost funny. In times like this Winona hated her sense of dark humor, but it was a small comfort for the time being.
However, for that very reason—of them having to spend a week together with no interruptions, work, or other responsibilities to attend to—Winona was cleaning up her pigsty of an apartment for their little slumber party. Her home wasn't dirty, but it was constantly disorganized, and ever since she was forced into the volunteer program (as her deal to get out of jail dictated), it had only gotten out of hand. She was too tired to do anything let alone pick up after herself, but at the same time, she didn't understand how her living space had become so much more chaotic when she was barely around to even make the mess!
"Intercom, time!" She called out the command as she bustled back to her bedroom to distribute her dirty laundry into the bin, drop her tool satchel (and single tools that came free) onto her workbench, and dropped the garbage bag in the corner for later.
"Time is the 20 of August, in the year 2277, at 20:39 P.M." The intercom chimed in reply. It was a crafty invention of her own creation, which followed basic commands implemented by her and would repeat the answer back accordingly. She could ask for the date and time, align plans that it would calendar for her (since she was so bad at keeping track of such things), or even ask what the diner menu was offering that day for lunch. It was very handy for when her hands were full of tools, or covered in grease or paint, or she didn't have the time to go to the cafeteria to check if the dinner menu was spaghetti or casserole.
But if the intercom was right, and it surely was, Butch would be arriving at any minute and the living room was barely made up. Winona went to the couch and pulled the cushions off of it to try and pull out the metal bed frame tucked underneath. He would be sleeping on it during the course of the week. It wouldn't unfold due to extreme disuse, and only squeaked stubbornly the more she pulled. She momentarily turned her attention back to the booklet in her opposing hand as she tried to keep yanking with one hand.
"For new couples who are potentially unaware of the freedom and satisfaction they're allowed during intercour—wait, what the hell—yadda yadda—instructions provided with helpful pictures—blah, blah, blah—please turn to page 42—" Winona did as she was told and turned to some of the final few pages, her eyebrows skyrocketing to her white hairline. "...Ye-uuup. Those are graphically detailed sex positions. Wow, okay."
The inventor clapped the book shut upon being startled by the door buzzer being hit repeatedly. Tossing it onto the dinner table, she quickly went to the door and pulled the hair tie from her curls to fix them up from their messy bun as best she could. After fussing with the preening for some time to look more presentable, the buzzer rang again in impatience and she resolved leaving her hair in a high ponytail before opening the door. Butch DeLoria stood on the other side with an open-mouthed box in his arms and a sarcastic comment balanced on the tip of his tongue.
"Took your sweet time," He grumbled before a teasing smirk came to his face. "Playin' hard t'get, Parker?"
"You think you're cute, don't you?" She laughed with a cocked eyebrow and allowed him to come into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.
"The cutest." Butch remarked as he took a detour to the dining table to drop off the box in his possession.
"Watcha got?" Winona asked from somewhere behind him. He pulled from the carry box a couple plastic trays of steaming food under clear container lids and set them on the table.
"Hot fudge sundae, so how 'bout you shuddup and eat it?" He joked as he dropped the plasticware with it. He couldn't believe it when they were told at the end of their mock ceremony (marked by a super awesome fist bump that even made Kendrick, the officiator, laugh awkwardly) that they were expected to even go through with the bullshit 'Honeymoon Week'.
It wasn't like anything was going to happen between them, but he felt severely uncomfortable at being in Winona's apartment, and for the next long week no less. He was anxious that his mom would basically be by herself (even though he could go and visit at any time, it wasn't like he was imprisoned here), he was anxious having to sleep in an unfamiliar space, he was anxious about what people were going to gossip about. Out of the many matches calculated through the F.A.M.I.L.Y. Initiative, it seemed like everyone had their eyes specifically set on them, setting bets and matching them for how long the two could go without killing the other and chopping them up into small pieces. He hadn't talked to Paul in days leading up to the ceremony for some comfort from his best friend, and Wally was lurking around somewhere else with no intentions of wanting to talk. After the results came out Butch saw him less and less—he was still ego bruised from when the gang leader protected Winona and made his den brother realize the two made an alliance ride under his big beak nose—so now if they saw each other in the halls Wally only made a hissing jab of 'traitor' before walking on like the big chicken he was.
Butch knew the guy would never have the balls to do anything but name call in passing (which was a good thing because he'd readily kidney-punch his best friend if he tried starting a fight), but in some complicated and foreign way, he wanted his brother back. He hated that they were still fucking fighting over some trivial bullshit, he hated that Wally held onto his grudges because he had an extremely fragile pride while also having a massive ego, he hated that everything was too convoluted for them to just call it a truce and grab a beer.
Now that he and Winona were officially forced into marriage, he knew his chance in convincing Wally to call the whole fight off had efficiently been slimmed. That scared the gang leader because he knew Wally's wrath would only manifest to Allen Mack levels, and then he'd do something dangerous. Calculated because he was too smart for his own damn good, but nonetheless dangerous.
"How about you bite me?" Winona responded to his sundae comment with a jeering laugh, followed by her labored grunting and a shrill squeak of what sounded like rusty metal which made his skin crawl over his bones.
When Butch turned to snap back at her, his jaws immediately clacked shut when his eyes connected with her backside. The first thing he saw was her bare back through the open window of an old gray t-shirt cut and styled into a sleeveless halter—which tied behind the neck and the middle of her back. Her warm, sepia coloring left dappled freckles barely visible on her shoulders as if they'd been been made from a sunny day long ago, and the contours of her shoulder blades and back strained in pulling the couch bed's frame to an unfolded position. His eyes panned over the back of her lithe neck as the length of her ponytail draped over her shoulder and down her front in a spill of white curls. His eyes returned to sculpting down the curve of her freckled back in her bent over position and down, slowly down, further down, as if willingly tormenting himself, to visually cup her rear.
Parker's got an ass on her, the Tunnel Snake mused wantonly with a small side cock of his head as he continued to, rather openly, appreciate the shape of her hips to her ass. When his eyes skimmed back up her naked back, she straightened up from the couch with a puzzled huff with her hands framing her hips and he managed to catch a coy peek of the petite side curve of her breast where the material relaxed, letting him peep.
She wasn't wearing a bra and God that was an engaging memory for later use. Butch would've been mildly perplexed if he wasn't so distracted by the instinct of wanting to see more (and happily visualizing it, too) because it was such an innocuous moment that he didn't know how it was igniting a crushing rush of heat clean through his body. The inventor wasn't trying to seduce him, she wasn't dolled up, she wasn't dressed provocatively, she was just standing there in a cut up shirt with her hair uncaringly styled and he wanted nothing more than to fireman carry her to the bedroom and make her sing his name like it was her favorite bible verse.
"Careful, girl. Might take that as an invitation" Butch ventured upon her earlier snap of 'bite me' and her chin turned toward her shoulder to stare back at him. A smirk of triumph framed his mouth upon seeing the flush tinting the apples of her cheeks but the brazen look in her face didn't falter any. Her hazel eyes only came alive as if she saw through him and could see what he was thinking, rising to a challenge she wasn't above playing, and there was something sultry—knowing and toying and almost minxy—about the smile that slowly tugged at her lips to her forming dimples.
Fuck the bed, he'd barely manage to get her bent over the kitchen table if she kept looking at him like that with those damn dimples of hers.
"Easy, King Snake." She responded with some measure of coyness that snapped at his arousal with a cracking whip.
Butch never had to play this game before—the game of a sexually torturous chase—as Dolly was always willing, wanting, waiting and painfully obedient when he had needs that had to be satiated and he couldn't completely tell if Winona wanted to ride him like a jet ski in a hurricane or not. When he was with the inventor he could translate every look, light in her eye, twist of her expression, and subtle curve to her smirk as if he were trained to understand them automatically, but at the same time there were rare moments where he felt unsure and didn't like that he was unsure of what thoughts were grinding away behind her honey-colored stare. That look alone could pin him like nothing else could and it left him with an unfulfilled desire of wanting to please her.
Sex with Dolly was run of the mill; eventually her body was tuned like an instrument he knew how to play without trying, a romp was a race to the finish line only for himself because most of the time he had only his own finish in mind, and she just didn't mind being along for the ride. Nights with her were hot but not enticing, hurried and not at all intimate, messy and not sexy, and when they were finished he'd roll over and she'd curl up into his side with a giggle and blissful smile relaying some self-congratulatory remark to herself on her own performance.
But in that moment when Winona tucked her hair back out of her eyes and behind her ear, turning away from him with the dimpled smirk still on her face, and bent over to pick up sofa cushions off the floor when the couch bed remained unwilling so he unabashedly stared at her shapely ass once again, he was struck by an abrupt realization; he would do anything just to hear her praise if she allowed him just one chance. He'd follow her demands to the last letter, down on his knees with a grin on his face, turning her sexual satisfaction into an upheld priority as if there was nothing more he could want out of life than making her eyes roll into delirium, her toes curl at the end of her trembling legs, and her throat turn hoarse from her shrill demands of 'more'. Exercising himself in the vices of her slender body, becoming so well-versed it what would make her completely undone, would be his new favorite hobby.
There was pride in fucking Dolly and making her come, sure.
But it was almost noble that he'd carry Winona to the edge of starry-eyed oblivion, even if he wouldn't be allowed to follow.
Butch always had thoughts of having sex with her, especially at the height of his puberty when he still had feelings for her and hadn't finally given up to a pawing Dolly, but they were never this explicit—never this lustful or intense—never this biting where he thought she'd unknowingly drive him insane if he didn't get to act on those desires with her.
"Bed won't come out so you're on your own on my little couch. You mind?" She explained as she replaced all the cushions efficiently, patting them back into place with smoothing hands and then turned back to him with her hands on her hips once more—unaware of the thoughts that were probably clearly written all over his face, as he was unguarded in his day dreaming of being trapped between her thighs.
"Whatever." He responded plainly before pulling up a chair at her table and spun it around backwards, swinging a leg over to sit with his arms folded over the top of the chair's backing. He slid her meal tray to the seat closest to his with her own collection of plasticware and then popped the top on his own food.
Winona sat beside him without complaint, much to his satisfaction, and took a couple leisurely moments to untie her hair. When she gathered back up the wild curls in an attempt to tame them, her arms arching over her head with deft hands smoothing away wild baby curls that framed her forehead and eyes, Butch allowed himself another lecherous peek at how her body twisted before him with the arch of her back and the rise of her delicate breasts.
