A/N - Just a few snippets about Butch and my Lone Wanderer's relationship throughout the years. These are pretty much strung together, but they can most definitely be read separately if you so desire to. I'll be adding more as I go along, thinking up new things here and there. It'll probably be brought together as more of an ongoing storyline later on, but I'll warn you when we enter storymode. As for right now, I hope you enjoy! ;)

1. Your Hair's a Mess

Sometimes Johnny couldn't help but like Butch.

Sure, he was a total fucking asshole who seriously needed to get his ass kicked down a notch, but once in a while, Johnny couldn't help but see a sort of friend in him. A domineering, arrogant, fucktard of a friend, but a friend nonetheless. And sometimes maybe even a better friend than Amata was. Still, Amata never tried to strangle him to death, but whatever. Sometimes a guy needed a threat on his life to kick him into a higher gear.

Though this view of his favorite bully didn't really start until he was almost seventeen. It was a little after they had taken the G.O.A.T. and were in training when Butch started to act less like an asshole and more like the local barber. Instead of barking insults at people walking down the halls, he would grunt at them, or just glare. Johnny figured it was just because he would get more customers if he was nicer. Though, there was nowhere else to get your hair done, so there probably wasn't much of a point to it. Still, Johnny wasn't complaining.

The first time Butch cut his hair was one of the strangest interactions he had ever had with the greaser. He was reluctant to even go near the barbershop, but his straight-as-can-be ash brown hair was seriously getting in his face anymore. He couldn't even look to see what he was doing while working on his pip-boys. And so, with wary steps, Johnny had walked into Butch's shop and sat down slowly on the chair, all the while having the angry Tunnel Snake's eyes glaring holes in his back.

"Your hair's a mess," he deadpanned, as if he was struggling with being so 'nice'.

Johnny shifted awkwardly in the chair. "Uh... yeah. That's why I'm here." He paused, fighting the urge to look behind him at the bully. "I, uh... just need an inch or so off."

Butch scoffed, taking steps around behind Johnny - gathering supplies, or something, he thought. "You sure? I can do it up all nice and purdy for you. Put some frilly curls in it like I did Susie Mack," he snickered. He stood in front of Johnny and snapped the scissors together quickly, a wicked grin on his face. "Or maybe my hand could just... slip." He made a motion with the scissors, coming a step closer to Johnny, making the programmer jump.

"Eh... I think just a trim would be fine," he said in a small voice, shrinking a little from Butch.

Butch just rolled his eyes and walked around behind Johnny again. "Oh, relax, Nosebleed. If I cut you, I don't get paid." And then there were fingers gliding through Johnny's hair, combing out the tiny knots that had been forming there since this morning with gentle hands. A comb smoothed out a few tougher ones, but Johnny was never once in pain. The Butch leaned over and measured the lengths of the sides with his fingers before swooping his scissors quickly along the length. He combed the remains out and did it again and again all around Johnny's scalp, making sure to cut it nice and even.

It was somewhere about halfway through that Johnny realized he was actually enjoying this. He liked the feeling of Butch's fingers combing across his head, liked how close he could feel him, like he was breathing in his ear. He liked the little sounds he made as he concentrated. A flush threatened to creep up Johnny's face, but he remained resolute. There was no way he was going to let Butch DeLoria have the satisfaction.

When the sounds of the scissors stopped, Johnny realized that Butch must be done. He turned around in his chair to see Butch staring at his head in contemplation. "What is it?" he asked wearily, hoping to god he wasn't bald on one side.

Butch took a moment before answering. "You know... I could style it for you. If you want." He seemed absolutely enthralled with the idea.

This time, Johnny couldn't help the tiny bit of red that ran into his cheeks. "I, uh... I guess. Swear you won't make me look like Susie Mack?"

The bully laughed, spinning Johnny around in the chair. "Don't worry, Nosebleed. I won't." He paused. "It's not even long enough for that anymore." And so, with a new set look of determination in his eye, he set to work on Johnny's hair once again. The scissors were working even harder, and Butch wasn't holding his hands back either. Johnny almost sank back into the chair, sighing, but realized how strange that would be. But he allowed himself a little bit of relaxation, at least, closing his eyes. It's not like Butch could see it anyway.

But then he felt the strange coolness of a hair clipper, then the loud buzzing in his ear and the vibration against his neck. What the heck? Was it that short? "Uh... Butch? What're ya doing?" he asked warily.

He could hear the grin in the Snake's voice. "Just trimmin' ya up. Don't worry. You'll love it." Somehow, that only made him more nervous.

Butch put away the clippers and walked away from the chair to rummage through his supplies. Johnny took the opportunity to try and look for a mirror, but Butch shouted at him to stay put. He came back a minute or so later, and Johnny could hear suspicious, liquid-y noises coming from behind him. What the hell was he doing? Then all he could think about was the fact that both of Butch's hands were in his hair, kneading what was left with his fingers. He closed his eyes again and sighed, forgetting that he was supposed to be hating this whole process. Except Butch didn't freak out of anything, he just huffed out a bit of laughter that Johnny barely even heard. He was cool with it. Johnny wasn't going to get teased relentlessly. With that in mind, he sank against those hands and sighed again, louder. He grinned a little when Butch dug in just a little bit more before puling out entirely.

"Alright, Nosebleed. We're done." And he spun the engineer around in his chair, pulling him up and leading him over to a desk with a mirror behind it. Immediately, a grin set on his face as he took it in. His sloppy, straight hair had been cut to almost a centimeter or two long on top, fading down around the sides and back. The longest bit was tussled and greased - what he suspected was what Butch had put in his hair last. It look strangely like plain ol' 'sex hair', but for some reason, it looked... really good.

Johnny turned to Butch, digging out some paper money and a card for a free pip-boy upgrade at his shop. "Thanks, man. It looks awesome. I'll, uh... have to come here more often."

Butch let a tiny, genuine smile pass through his snarky facade. It vanished quickly, however, replaced with a much less sincere sneer. "I wouldn't recommend it, Nosebleed! Next time I'll know to screw it up more." He pushed Johnny towards the door halfheartedly. "Now get out of here before I have to shove you out."

He pulled a mean mask, but now Johnny knew. And he wasn't going to forget it so soon.