Being yelled at by Mr. House was never a good thing. He never yelled praise, or critique. Expletives and scold were always flying out of his mouth at the speed of lightning. His finger was always pointed in someone's direction, and never a group of people, because it was always an individual's fault. Sometimes, when he got really angry, the connection to his computer disappears for a few minutes, making him even angrier, and putting even more blame on the accused.

This time, it was Benny who did wrong by Mr. House. It wasn't often Benny's fault for anything, even if it really was his fault, being House's favorite. Benny was the leader of many groups, and he was my equal before I became a courier. The group he dictated this day was mainly used for getting rid of the Fiends that lived around the ruins around the New Vegas Strip. Rumor had it that Cook Cook was back from the dead, and even though I was the one who killed him and delivered his head to my contractor, it appeared that the rumors weren't myth. Long story short, Cook Cook's revengeful cousin took out a couple of Benny's troops, with me as a witness.

Mr. House knew of these rumors, and took none of it. Said there was no excuse for his troops to fall to the hands of Fiends, Cook Cook himself included. So, instead of accusing the blame on me like I predicted, he took it out on Benny.

"What!?" Benny yelled out as he realized he was getting chewed out for the first time. I felt the echo of his yell as it rebounded off of the screen that House's appearance was reflected upon. Soon after his remark, he sealed his mouth shut, lips tightly pursed.

I couldn't help feeling the anger radiating from Benny, converting into my own anger. Of course he deserved it; he deserved to be yelled at every time something was actually his fault. But there was something about Benny's presence that always made me feel what he felt. There was never a time where I didn't know what he was feeling, unless this feeling was foreign to me.

I felt something off about him after we were dismissed by Mr. House, as we rode in the elevator down to the Casino of the Lucky 38. It was an emotion I was far too fond of feeling, and didn't want to feel ever again.

Benny was unusually quiet; usually he would bitch at me or we'd get into a heated conversation about which soda was better. In this moment, Benny was pin-drop silent, only the echoes of the elevator's grinding gears filled my ears. He looked sullen; eyes glued to the ground and hands shoved in his pants pockets.

"You alright?" I asked, lurching forward as the elevator came to a sudden stop. I braced myself against the rusty metal door and clenched my teeth and Benny stayed in his sunken position.

Sometimes, The 38 gets these power surges, something no one can help or fix. Sometimes, the lights flicker on or off, and sometimes, the whole place shuts down. Especially during the worst of times.

He opened his mouth to say something when I straightened myself, but only a huff of air came out. My eyebrows furrowed. This was absolutely nothing like Benny, the one who could talk himself in and out of any situation possible, even better than I could. The one who talked me into pairing up with him in the first place.

"Is this about House?" I asked, and then when I only got a shrug for a reply, I added, "look, fuck him. I think you did the best you could do."

Benny still looked unresolved. "Listen," he muttered, "I've been getting this weird-"

He sighed and paused, letting his hands drop from his pockets. He finally looked up at me, eyes showing every feeling that ended with regret, and whispered, "I love you."

My breath caught in my throat. "What?"

I heard him perfectly fine. Except, he sounded like Dixon. When Dixon first told me he loved me.

My arms subconsciously wrapped around my stomach as I hunched my shoulders slightly in emotional pain. Did he really mean what he was saying?

"Vedas," he said, still under a normal volume level but more confident. "I need you, and I trust you with my life. Can you remember that for me, no matter what?"

My lips moved, but no noise came out. Once I regained my train of thought, I stood up straight and quietly cleared my throat. "I, uh… I-"

I was trained to act first, and explain later. It was habit by then, and a habit that needed badly to get broken. Then was not the time to break the habit.

Abruptly, I pushed myself off of the metal door and smashed my lips against Benny's, wrapping my arms around his neck. At first, he jolted back, then smiled into the kiss and leaned forward. Our lips continued to mash together, gliding over one another, his hot breath warming my lips even further. I trailed my fingertips down his back, and then back up again, so he'd shiver in delight. When he did as expected, I grinned through the kiss and pushed my lips even further against his.

Just as my tongue traced his lower lip, the power flickered back on; the familiar hum of the generators coming back to life filling our ears.

"Uh," I said softly, backing up a step with my eyes glued to the ground. Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of insecurity flooded over me. I backed up even further, eyes snapping to Benny's remorseful face.

"Shit, uh," Benny stuttered, a hand sweeping through his hair. It was a 'remain cool' tactic that he used all the time, but this time, his flushed features and shaking hands refused to believe he was anything but okay. "That shouldn't have happened."

I was still breathless. "Did you want it to happen?"

Benny: the most infamous womanizer on the strip, a smooth talker until death, was reduced to but a mere part of the lips. An astonishing feat for someone who craved to be in control all the time.

Before he had time to reply, if he was ever going to reply, the elevator doors opened up to the 38's main lobby: the deserted casino. I decided to let go of what happened, whatever it was, and walked out without another word. Just like Dixon and Boone, I wasn't going to let my feelings once again get in the way of the matter at hand.