A/N Hello~ This is just a short story themed around Fallout, which I don't see many AU's of. Fair warning that I changed France's human name to Marceau, as Francis makes me think of an old lady unfortunately. I understand if this puts people off, but no hate please and thank you. I now have a tumblr where I write short ficlets and reblog random crap I like. faerie-of-the-moonlight (Originally posted on Ao3)
Arthur glared at the bright, blinding sun. It was miserable out. At least he had a mockery of shade, but it would've been nice to have his company back. He knew it was just a matter of patience, but he wasn't much for patience. He preferred to be doing shit and being productive. Not waiting around for people to come back.
Tired of waiting around, Arthur sat up and brushed his hair out his face. He really needed a haircut. His bangs were starting to brush the tip of his nose and the rest of his hair was getting uncomfortably close to his shoulders. He could hardly cut it himself, though. He would have to have Marceau cut it down to how he had it before.
Looking around the area, Arthur started wandering. He had his rifle strapped to his back, so there was no worry about anything. He had to do something, however. If he just sat around all day waiting for Marceau, he would go further out of his mind. God knew what Marceau would think of him then.
As he walked around the area, he found a ruined church in the wasteland. He cocked his head in thought before walking up to it and taking a cautious peek inside. It looked empty and mostly scavenged. But he could find a few things other people looked over. It was what he did, after all. Assuming he hadn't rummaged through it the last time he was there.
Most of it was random garbage and junk. As most buildings had after so many years past the Great War. With a little bit of rummaging, though, he was able to find some wiring, scrap metal, and even some .308 ammo. That was nice, since there was always a shortage of it. And Gilbert charged out the ass to make it.
He stretched his arms up after stashing his new finds in his rucksack. Then he looked around the church a little bit more. The rafters looked promising for a sniping location with the broken out window. It would've been a good spot to wait for Marceau, as well.
It was far, far later when Arthur finally started to see Marceau approach. He sighed and hopped down from the rafters. His shoulders and legs were getting stiff from waiting all that time. He'd hardly left the church in the meantime. All the same, he practically skipped down the dilapidated stairs. "Marceau," he called out. "You are horrendously late, dear! I was starting to think you weren't going to show."
The sigh was visible, but Arthur was glad to see Marceau wasn't injured. That had crossed his mind a few times and it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Yes, I know, Arthur. I'm sorry. I got held up," Marceau said once they were closer together.
"With what?" Arthur asked. Rather than calmly wait around for an answer, he walked around Marceau to check him over. He got another sigh in response.
"I was cleaning up a little raider outpost. I couldn't get past it without getting in a fight," Marceau told him. He had to stop Arthur by his shoulders or else get dizzy trying to keep track of him. "Did you take Mentats or something? You're acting weird."
"Nooo," Arthur said with a smile. "I'm always weird. Thought you figured that out a while ago."
Marceau sighed and tilted his head up by his chin to look at his eyes. "Your hair is a mess… I can barely see your eyes." And it was a shame. His eyes were such a pretty emerald green. Except when he was whacked out on Mentats and his pupils were the size of the moon.
"I know. I need a haircut pretty bad, hmm? I'm not high, I swear," Arthur defended, brushing his bangs out of the way. "I'm just… excited to see you again. Is something wrong with that?"
"Of course not. Just making sure you didn't fall into old habits while we were separated." He'd done well so far on keeping off of the stuff. The last thing Marceau wanted was for Arthur to relapse while he was away.
"I'm okay. I haven't even seen any since that mess and we went different ways," Arthur shrugged as Marceau stopped examining him. Not that it wasn't tempting to look for some. It was always tempting to look for chems.
It didn't look like Arthur was lying, so Marceau stepped back a little bit. "Well… You look fine… Other than your hair," he said with a teasing smile.
"Yeah, well… I can't really cut it without a mirror." Not unless he wanted it to look like a hot mess. Not that it would be the first or last time. At least he had hair, unlike when he was a child and his head was constantly being shaved.
The amount of hair in his face was really annoying, though. Both for Arthur and Marceau, albeit for different reasons. So they went up to the church Arthur had been situated in. Though the light was nonexistent, it was good enough for Marceau to trim his hair a little bit. Enough to get it out of his eyes.
The bad part was that they had no scissors, so Marceau had to cut it with a dagger. It was rough and a little painful, but nothing Arthur couldn't handle. He went through a lot more pain than having his hair cut.
For no light in the church and only having a dull knife to use, Marceau made Arthur's hair look much better. It was a rough cut, but it looked better than the overlong shaggy look from before. Even though Arthur's hair was always a wild mess. Though in a good way, since he was a very wild person.
"How long have you been waiting here for me, by the way?" Marceau asked as he tried to clean up the cuts. He could at least try to make it look a little better. Even if he put it back to Arthur's regular, asymmetrical bangs that covered his right eye and the scar going over it.
Arthur sighed in thought. "Mrm… I dunno. A couple days maybe. Not sure."
Marceau stared at him for a moment. "You've been eating, right? Not just camping in here?"
"Of course I've been eating. I'd waste away if I didn't. Why?"
"Just checking…" He wasn't very good at taking care of himself, that's why. Marceau could remember many times that Arthur ignored an injury or illness. Let alone acting recklessly or starting fights for no damn reason other than feeling feisty.
After getting Arthur's hair sorted out, they ended up sleeping in that church. It was nice to be together again. They hadn't been apart for very long, but it was admittedly stressful. It hadn't been what they wanted at all. And Marceau had really been worried about Arthur, since he tended to get into trouble by himself.
While Arthur didn't normally sleep well, he was able to rest peacefully with Marceau. It was about the only time he could sleep calmly. It wasn't the best place to sleep, on the harsh floor of the church, but Arthur slept fine. For once. He was perfectly happy to rest anywhere so long as he was with Marceau. As ridiculous as that would sound to people who knew him.
For once in his life, he was able to just rest and sleep. He didn't need to sleep with one eye open or with a knife under his theoretical pillow. With Marceau, he felt… safe and secure. Even if he was pretty well fucked in the head.