Strays

Nora Winter has a thing for bringing home strays. Preston Garvey could attest to this as he was once one of those strays himself.

Did they have to be so dangerous though?

A/N: Rated T for possible language. This will be a series of drabbles.

Standard Disclaimers Apply

Perhaps, Preston Garvey mused, I should have not let her leave home today.

The she in question was one Nora Winter, a slightly unhinged redhead (who was barely legal, according to pre-war standards, a fact which left the green-eyed sole survivor oddly giddy whenever it was mentioned,) who was also the most important being in Preston's life.

And this she, who Preston now knew for certain as the scene progressed, should have most definitely not left the relatively safe barriers of Sanctuary Hills the morning.

Now, the Second-in-Command (though, honestly, at this point, he was basically the General and she the crazed adhesive that kept them together and led them into battle,) had left this morning to check in on the Red Rocket Station Settlement (dubbed "Red Rock" for short.) Mr. and Mrs. Stanton (the couple who ran the "Pit Stop" at Red Rock where Traders and travelers could rent a Room for 10 caps a night) had recently brought a tiny bundle of joy, and Preston felt the need to make sure the new parents had everything they needed and that the security around the settlement was put together enough to withstand even the meanest of Supermutants.

Unfortunately, this meant that he couldn't follow Nora as she went off to only God knew where, to do only God knew what.

He also hadn't made it back home in time to see her return.

Which is why Preston Garvey stood in the door way of Nora's pre-war house (and the current home they shared) slack-jawed and regretting ever letting her move from her bed.

She was crooning a lullaby and feeding something that made the dark-skinned man question if Nora was left with any sense or brainpower after being frozen for 200 years.

"I named him Mr. Squiggles. Like the cat I wanted before Nate said we should get a dog."

Her remark was followed by pleading eyes and a pouty lip.

"Nora, love. Where did you get the Deathclaw?"

In the end of a lenghy discussion on why one should not pick-up baby Deathclaws (and especially not take the home to keep as pets,) Preston finally convinced the pre-war woman to "put that thing back where it came from."

In return for her cooperation, he travelled to Abernathy Farm the very next day to barter for the first kitten they could part with.