"Is he going to be OK, Arcade?"

"Well, he lost a lot of blood, but he'll live. He should be fine in about…two to six weeks."

Someone squeezed my hand. It hurt like a bitch, so I had a good feeling it was Veronica. That girl could crush a rock with her bare hands if someone asked her to. I didn't open my eyes, I just listened.

"The Legion isn't going to wait six weeks for him to get better, Arcade."

That was Boone. I could pick that steely voice in a crowd of people talking all at once. He was on the other side of the bed, opposite of Veronica. I would bet all the caps in the world that he still had his aviators on and his gun still strapped to his back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Boone, what do you think I should do, then? Slap him into shape? Oh, I know, maybe I could go back in time and stop him and Cass from approaching that nest of Deathclaws?"

Boone didn't respond.

Yesterday's events flooded my mind. The Deathclaws. The 50 rounds I shot into one charging at me. The blood. The pain. Cass-

Cass.

Oh, God, Cass.

I couldn't remember what happened after I blacked out.

"Cass!" I yelled, and I sat right up, fast as lightning. Pain exploded everywhere in my body when I did. It was a miracle I didn't straight up pass out. Black spots danced in my vision.

Boone and Veronica were on me a clear second after I sat up. They were pushing me back down on the bed, but I was just so damn frantic about what happened to Cass that the adrenaline was enough to keep them off of me. They were both telling me to calm down. Veronica was on the verge of yelling and Boone didn't really say anything, just grumbles and grunts.

"Jett," Arcade's voice was way too calm for my tastes, "You need to calm down, you'll pull your stitches."

"Arcade, where's-" my voice became high and panicked. Fear and panic and worry surrounded me.

"Easy, Jett, easy!"

"Arcade where the fuck is-"

"Right here, Jett."

My eyes darted towards the voice. Cass was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. Deep scratches were on her cheek, he arm in a sling. A flood of relief and guilt washed over me.

"You're lucky I was there. Those Deathclaws would've ripped you apart if it wasn't for me." she said, smiling. She brought a flask of what I assumed to be whiskey up to her lips and took a long swig.

"Shit, Cass, I'm s-"

"Don't apologize." she set the flask down and took off her hat. Her hair was a mess and I could see a stitched up head wound. I felt so damn guilty about that. "I didn't catch sight of 'em quick enough. I'm just lucky that I got away with a busted arm and a few scars." she smiled and picked up the flask again.

"Good thing you stock the fridge up with whiskey, huh?"

I smiled. It was more of an awkward grin, though. While I was focused on Cass, Arcade grabbed my arm, the sly bastard, and jabbed a syringe into it. I almost grabbed him by the throat.

"Wh-What the fuck-" I felt woozy all of a sudden. I was ready to hop out of the bed, but Veronica and Boone were back on top of me. Veronica on my arms, Boone on my legs.

"There, that should calm you down." Arcade said in this pompous tone that pissed me off.

Everything turned blurry, and I slipped into unconsciousness. The last thing I remember was wanting to slap Arcade so hard I knocked his glasses off.

When I woke up the next morning, I was groggy and in intense pain. My entire body hurt, especially my chest and legs. I turned my head to the side, and found Arcade slumped in the same chair Boone was in before I passed out again. Shit, did he stay here all night?

He was snoring softly, his glasses in his coat pocket. I stared at him for a while, just taking in all those little details in his face. He had long, girly eyelashes that were a sight to see with his blue eyes. And despite the long nights he spent without sleep when we traveled together, he didn't really have any deep circles under his eyes. Combined with his blond hair and the way the Mojave sun from the window hit his face, he looked like something out of a fairy-tale.

I never told him this, and I prayed to whatever all-knowing being watching over us for him to never find out, but I've always had this sort of crush on him. It was pretty mild at first. It was easy to fall for someone like Arcade, with his blond hair and blue eyes. He had a pretty nice body, too. Very lean. When we first started traveling together, well, it was obvious this puppy love evolved into something more than just puppy love. It's been sorta difficult to keep it all under wraps nowadays.

His breathing changed suddenly, and his head lolled to one side. His eyes opened sleepily, like he had the best night sleep of his life. He leaned forward and yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"Mornin' Sleeping Beauty." I said. He jumped, like he forgot I was there the entire night. He looked at me and smiled, leaning his cheek against his hand.

"And good morning to you too." he answered. He took his glasses out of his pocket. "Sleep well?"

"Everything I do hurts like hell. Plus, I didn't appreciate having a needle stabbed into my arm." I was pretty heavy on the sarcasm.

Arcade smiled wider.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I know how much you hate needles."

I frowned. He was right, though. Sharp things freaked me out, especially needles. It was hard to hide the cringes in the medical tents and the way I shivered when I found needles on the bodies of Fiends. I had a hard time using stimpacks sometimes, even. Plus, Arcade was a pretty observant person. You couldn't get anything past him, no matter how hard you tried.

"You need anything?" Arcade asked me.

"A glass of water would be great, actually."

The next five weeks were hell. The first week was just lots of medicine, lots of pain, lots of science talk, and lots of needles. Veronica and Cass would spend most of the day in my room, talking while I slipped in and out of consciousness thanks to these pills Arcade gave me. Boone would sometimes come in and sit in the corner of the room. He wouldn't really add anything into the conversations until one of the girls asked him something. Real friendly guy.

I got up to go to the bathroom a couple days after I first woke up, and when I got to the mirror I checked out some of the stitch-work. Multiple long scars were crossed in random patterns over my chest, I couldn't count them all. I had a long scar on my right forearm, to add to injury. I shivered imagining the fresh wounds. They were healing up nice, too. No signs of infection, and I was taking it easy so none of them opened up. Yet.

When I asked Arcade who stitched me and Cass up, he said he and Veronica teamed up on me, and Boone worked on Cass. That broke me, honestly. Imagine your friends seeing you, a bloody mess and close to death, and your lives were in their hands. It must've been horrible. I made sure to be way less of an asshole to everyone than I usually would be.

In week two, Boone would go out sometimes and hunt Legion goons, sometimes alone, sometimes with Veronica. I was so goddamn jealous of them. Cass would hang out in the kitchen a lot, listening to the radio, and ask Veronica and Boone to bring back more whiskey. Arcade would spend the nights in my room. I told him he didn't need to, but he insisted. I really wish he didn't, though. It just made me have stupid thoughts. Stupid love-y thoughts.

Arcade was also experimenting with different pain meds on me. One gave me the worst night terrors. I woke up twice, and both times I thrashed so bad in my sleep I pulled the stitches on my chest. I felt awful having to wake Arcade up just to re-stitch me. I would apologize the entire time. The only plus was that at least Veronica didn't have to be there, it would've made the entire situation worse. I cared a lot about Veronica. She was like a little sister to me, even though she was a little more than five years older than me, (she was 27, I was 22.)

Week three was the same as week two, but Veronica would come back with books and try to get me to read some of them. I found an interest in some of the old war books she brought, but anything other than that was as boring as dirt. She liked the ones about poetry, Veronica did. She would read some of 'em aloud, and then we would have a good laugh at how ridiculous they sounded. Arcade would be listening in, and ruin the fun by explaining what the poems meant.

Cass's arm was all healed up by then, thanks to lots of stimpack treatments and taking it easy. I was just glad she didn't lose it. It was my fault she got hurt. I would've fought someone to the death to prove it. She would always talk about how attractive the deep scars on her face were, too, going on and on about how much tail she was going to get with 'em.

At the end of week three, I had a crazy night terror. When I woke up I was straight up sobbing. I somehow ripped out my own stitches during the thing. When I woke up, Arcade was trying his best to comfort me, and I just buried my head into his chest. He fixed the stitching and we both went back to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, Arcade asked me if I remembered anything. I lied my ass off, telling him no, but I don't think he believed me.

When we reached week four, I was dying to leave the casino. I would've left by now, but since I pulled out my stitches I needed another couple days to heal up. I ended up just staring out the window the entire week, at the Gommorah, the cracked street, the people who passed in and out through the Westside gate, and I swear my vision turned green whenever I saw Boone and Veronica leave. I put on my armor and tried to sneak out with the two of them a few times, but Arcade would always catch me. I had a feeling Veronica would tell him before we went out, but she denied all of it, the lying jerk.

When week five hit, I was only a few days away from being well enough to leave the damn casino. I counted the hours. And polished my unused weapons.

"How's it feel to be an almost free man, Jett?" Cass said, smiling. We were both sitting in the dining room, drinking and laughing to the words of Mr. New Vegas. Veronica and Boone were out, hunting God-knows-what. Cass downed a full third of a bottle of vodka a few moments ago, and she was happily drunk. I had a few beers and some scotch, but I was still pretty sober.

"Amazing, Cass."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Arcade popped into the doorway.

"Arcade!" she squealed, "Come, pour yourself…" she fumbled to get her canteen open, "Pour yourself a drink." she filled a large glass and held it up for him. Arcade smiled and politely took the glass.

"Thanks, Cass." he said, and set it back on the table. "Actually, I need to talk to Jett."

"Well, go ahead, then." Cass smiled and poured some vodka into a shot glass. Arcade smiled and fixed his glasses on his nose.

"Alone, Cass. I need to talk to Jett alone."

"Oh."

I couldn't hide the shit-eating grin on my face.

"Well, looks like the good doctor see's me as a threat to your health, Jett." she pushed herself up from the table, taking the full glass and the bottle of vodka with her.

"See ya tomorrow, Jett. The first thing we'll do is take out a whole Cazadores nest." she pat my arm. "I'll make sure to wake ya' up early."

"Sounds great, Cass." I told her. She waved at me and Arcade, raising the bottle.

When Cass left, Arcade pulled up the chair she was sitting in. I couldn't stop smiling.

"I can see that you're excited about leaving." he said, folding his arms.

"Hell yes, I'm excited. I missed shootin' up Powder Ganger camps. Plus, I've been meanin' to head down to that one Vault that the Fiends took over near Camp McCarren and "clean house." I took a sip of my scotch, then continued, "Boone found me a Laser Rifle that I haven't had the chance to use yet. It's in great shape."

Arcade nodded. I felt kind of uncomfortable with the way he was staring at me. I shifted in my seat, smiling nervously.

"What?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Just thinking about some things."

Arcade leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His gaze didn't change.

"Like what?" I asked nervously. My heart beat a little faster in my chest.

"About those nightmares you had on the nocte terrores meds."

"Nocte terrores? What the hell does that mean?"

"Night terrors."

"Pretty creative, Arcade." I downed a shot of scotch.

"I thought it was appropriate."

"Mhm."

He watched me pour myself another shot and down it.

"So…"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to tell me about them? Your night terrors, I mean."

"No." I said a bit too defensively.

Arcade sat up straight. I glanced at him, licking my lips nervously.

"Sorry…I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"It's fine."

"I'm sorry..I just…"

"I said it's fine, Jett. I shouldn't have asked."

I awkwardly poured myself another glass. I brought it up to my lips. I felt a hand brush my arm. I nearly dropped the damn glass.

My eyes went wide, and I managed to get myself a case of whiplash looking at Arcade. I noticed his body was interestingly closer to me. He started stroking my arm, right over the long scar. His touch was cold, like I was being brushed by the cold night breeze. With a face on fire, I avoided my gaze and sucked up the glass of alcohol.

"Jett?"

"Yeah?" I didn't look at him, I just focused on an empty bottle.

"Can you look at me?"

I did, my eyes glancing at him.

I did not expect him to pull at my collar and kiss me.

My entire body tensed so bad, not even a Nightkin could pull me apart.

Arcade was soft, but demanding. I found myself melting into him, becoming more and more involved with the kiss. Wants and fantasies suddenly flooded my head. All those awkward glances and red faces seemed like nothing.

It was like a storm. Calm at first, then lightning flashed and thunder shook my foundation.

Arcade pulled back, and I went to follow. Arcade's grip on my collar kept me in place, quietly whispering "Woah, there."

The pupils in his bright eyes were blown wide, taking up must of the blue.

I was breathing hard, close to wheezing. Arcade's lips were partly open. His hand on my collar moved to my hair, gripping it.

He rushed at me, this time rougher and belligerent.

Please.

He leaned into me, lifting out of his chair and almost into my lap.

Arcade, please.

My legs were spread wide, and Arcade put one of his knees between them, just far enough from my crotch.

Arcade.

Before I could move my hands anywhere, Arcade pulled away for a second time. His grin wasn't soft, or kind. It was something of a smug teacher, who knew he was better than you. It coaxed my stomache into a series of a turns and flips. Arcade had my face cupped in his hands, and my chin was settled into his chest. I swallowed a stone in my throat.

"So…" I was embarrassed at the rasp in my tone.

Arcade's smug smile turned soft, and he kissed my forehead, like a mother would to a child.

"You sure you're feeling well enough to go back out?"

"Yes. I survived a gunshot to the head. I can handle a few scars."

Arcade shook his head.

"Of course…of course…"