A/N: Hello NewAgeWar here, if you happen to read this, thank you so much for reading my story. My first proper attempt at a one-shot please be harsh.
Disclaimer: I don't own fallout but if any of the makers are somewhat young and single, hmu.
Cigarettes and Pomade
He stands next to the generator everyday at 14.30 and stays there for exactly 35 minutes before heading back to work as a hair dresser. It may seem weird, to most people, that I know that and trust me I am not stalking him. It's just one of those things you just learn by accident. I know a lot of things about Butch Deloria that most people don't. I know he smokes 15 cigarettes a day and goes through 10 cans of pomade a week. I know he hates the sound of someone tapping their pencils on desks and hates unnecessary movement.
I know all these things about him because I work with that asshole, I have no idea why this vault needs two hair dressers, we mainly sit together and glare at each other. I have no idea why I did not take Mr. Brotch's offer and become a teacher instead. Too late now. Every now and again everyone in the vault decides to come for a haircut and Butch thinks it would be funny to break my combs and add purple dye to my spray bottles.
"Deloria, where are my scissors?!" I screamed over the chatter in the room, today was one of those busy days. I looked at him and his overly greasy hair, he smirked and shrugged. I rolled my eyes and told the elderly woman to wait as I got my hair cutting set. I came back not even two minutes later and saw Butch cutting the lady's hair. I looked at his spot and it was some snot nosed kid who could not sit still. Bastard.
After three long hours, Butch and I crashed into the seats, my dark hair was coming out of its short pony tail. I really wished I kept it long. I turned my chair to the other person in the room, "Sit up and wipe your grease off the seat, you don't want the customer to slip out of the seat do you?"
"Shut it Poindexter." He said strained, it was then I noticed his face was scrunched up in pain. I hate to be the one to ruin the fun but my father has raised me to patch people up... Even if I hate the crap out of them.
"What's wrong with your face?" I said with some concern, he looked at me and sighed.
"I was cutting some kid's hair and he panicked and stabbed my leg with a pencil. It stopped bleeding, I think." I stood up and walked towards him.
"Let me take a look." As soon a I said that he looked at me again for a while, "I don't have all day Butch strip or I leave."
"Damn, if you wanna get closer to me, that's all you gotta say, girl" He smirked.
I rolled my eyes, "Okay I guess you don't want to be treated."
I stood up and pretended to walk away when I felt a hand on my arm, "Please."
"Fine, now strip." I said and he awkwardly took off his jacket and jumpsuit, leaving him in briefs. I smirked, "That answers one question."
"Haha Nosebleed, haven't heard that one before. Please, fix my leg."
"You are no fun." I looked at his right leg which was surprisingly toned, must be from chasing poor kids around the vault, and higher up on his thigh I saw a stab wound. I was not surprised to see he hand knife marks decorating his leg but the round hole looked out of place. It was swollen on the edges with a bruise forming around it. I grabbed a stimpak and stabbed it in his leg, a few moments later it was completely healed. Pre-war medicine never ceased to amaze me.
"That was quick, why didn't I think of using that earlier." He said also amazed.
"Because our supply of stimpaks are limited and they are all in the Clinic, which you rarely frequent despite your injuries. Now tell me if this hurts." I poked the area around the place where his stab wound was. He sucked in a breath. I looked up and he nodded, "Well tell me if it hurts again tomorrow. Night."
"Wait, Poindexter, I'm sorry." I turned and raised my eyebrow.
"Pardon?"
"About being a dick," He was rubbing the back of his neck, "I mean, ya know, it's just that I like you and I don't know what to say to ya half the time."
"You like me?" I said dumbly, I looked at him expecting him to laugh but instead he blushed.
"Yeah, I mean you're my Nosebleed and you have gotten to be pretty and working with you has been, I don't know, fun." He turned his face, avoiding eye contact, now messing with his knife. I stood there in front of him, who is still mostly naked, dumbfounded.
"You like me?" I said again. This time he looked at me, well glared.
"Ya, I like you, what do you want me to do spell it out for you? Fine." Butch stood up and placed his hands on both sides of his face. He looked into my eyes and brought his lips down to mine. I was surrounded by the smell of pomade and cigarettes and I have never loved it more, I opened my mouth allowing him in and the taste of menthol cigarettes entered my mouth along with his tongue. He took out my hair tie and put his hands in my neck length hair. I brought my hands up and I pushed him back.
"If you want to continue you are going to have to buy me dinner first." I said.
He smiled, "Deal."