a/n: Here's moarrr. Enjoy.

Boone snorts and shrugs his shoulders. There has been more than one occasion when he thought his world was ending – obviously Carla's disappearance, her death, those months he spent Novac nursing bottles of whiskey…But this isn't one of them. Sure, the group is close, and it's basically become his family, but the Courier is the only one he has strong feelings for.

He'll miss the others, but the notion of falling into depression because they're split up for awhile is just a bit silly.

"I'm fucking serious," Six says, crossing her arms again, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes indignantly. He glances up, taking in her appearance with unintentionally hungry eyes – her arms accentuate the gratuitous curves of her chest, and she's somehow able to look feminine even with the dangerously frustrated glare she's giving him.

Ever since she found the Pre-War pinup magazine under one of the beds in the presidential suite, she's been wearing her hair in the same elaborately coiffed, wavy style of the models in it. The dark curls hang around her face in a teasing flip, brushing her exposed collarbone and shoulders. He wants to groan and push them away, wants to reveal more of that scared, battle-torn, tanned skin, wants to bring his palm lower…

Stop it.

Boone crosses his legs under the table uncomfortably, irked at how easily just focusing on her for a few seconds fazehim.

"Yeah," he says, and then winces. She doesn't like one word responses.

"Shit, Boone," she huffs, reaching out to take snatch away the rifle from his hands. He lets go easily, watching her set it against the oven with a huff. "Really, this is not the time."

She holds up a fist, counting off her fingers as she speaks. "It's not funny," she mutters, and her downcast expression forces him to sit up straighter, to look her in the eyes.

"Pretty soon it'll just be me and Rex," she says, and her voice breaks as she speaks. He didn't realize she was so passionate and distraught over the whole affair, but then again, it is Six. She's passionate about most everything.

"A dog can't help me run a city," she whispers, now dropping her eyes to the table, and stares at the chess board They've been playing a game of bottlecap checkers for the past half hour, and she's dangerously close to beating him and making him fork over the winnings. Six jumps three of his caps, and then kings the piece.

"Arcade's gone, already helping patch up soldiers at the Fort, I bet," she says nonchalantly.

"Veronica and ED-E are heading back to the Brotherhood, Cass and Raul went to sign up for a caravan run to New Canaan…even Lily is going back to Jacobstown to help the Doc out," this time she trails off, looks back up at him with a terribly torn, forlorn expression.

She's trying to say something, he realizes, but instead is squirming uncomfortably. Usually she's got too much to say, and it's unnerving to see her at a loss, especially for words.

"You're fucking re-enlisting tomorrow..."

It's surprisingly bitter, laced with a malice he hasn't heard since she confronted Benny at Caesar's fort – and, despite all the difficult decisions she's had to make by herself the past months, has never seen the terrible look of indecision that's written so plain as day across her pretty features.

"Yeah?"

He decided it a long time ago. It was after Bitter Springs, after they had sat under the stars, in complete silence for hours. He'd thought about a lot; thought about the Legion, thought about Carla, thought about the future, thought about her…thought about joining up with First Recon again.

Fought with her at the Battle, but had felt like a true NCR soldier again, and for the first time in a long time, he had felt proud of himself. Probably hadn't been a wise idea to keep it a secret from Six, but he'd snuck out to see Hsu a week after the city was firmly in her grasp.

Of course she'd found out, though, he'd been stupid to think she wouldn't. She had control of the surrounding area and the settlers living in it, especially wary of the NCR's presence.

Boone smiles a bit, only slightly, remembering the bitchfit she'd thrown.

Six stands up, inky hair bouncing as she slams her hands on the table. She's mistaken his grin for a smirk, for a cheeky refusal for more information. He stands up as well, holding up a hand, opening his mouth to tell her to calm down.

She points a finger at him, wagging it like he's a child. Her looming fury, for whatever reason, makes his pants even tighter, and he sits back down in a hurry so she won't notice.

"Are you…fuck you! Just fuck you, Craig Boone," she whispers, words outlined with a delicious double meaning. He smiles again, and her dark brown eyes narrow further. Her lips part in what begins as a scream, but dies out as a furious whimper.

As she slams her chair in, marches around the table, and storms out into the suite's lobby, Boone can hear her muttering in frustrated, upset Spanish. He feels bad, but then again, she is over-reacting.

"I'm going to bed!" she announces childishly, as if it wasn't obvious enough, and he hears the old door to her room slam.

Rex trots into the room not longer after, coming over to him, plopping down at his feet, and looking just plain rejected…and pissed. He levels his harsh, accusatory gaze at Boone, and the sniper figures he must have been kicked off Six's bed.

"Sorry, pal," he offers, but Rex just lets his jaw fall onto his paws, and whines.

"Jack-shit I'm gonna do. Expect me to pat her on the back?" Rex says nothing, of course, because he's a fucking dog.

A few minutes pass, and suddenly the emotional severity of the situation hits him. Only people she's ever gotten really close to, as far as he knows, is the small family she's pulled together herself . She's done a lot for them, for him, has helped them clear the troubles in their lives.

And now they're leaving her, splitting up her little family, won't be considered a together for a long time. Boone realizes how it must feel – knows how it feels - to lose loved ones.

And that aching, heavy depression after losing his family…that's what she managed to pull him out of.

Should at least repay the favor. Woman saved your life.

Boone stands determinedly and leaves the room. Rex lifts his head, eyes following one of his masters out the door, and then jumps up to snatch the deliciously mouthwatering Brahmin steak that's left unguarded on the table.

He knocks on the door twice, and each time, he can hear the volume on Six's TV being turned up. He recognizes an episode of the only Pre-War series that airs, thinks back to the time they fixed the broadcasting building's connection, got a few channels up and running for the Wasteland.

He knocks harder this time, watching the little room number nameplate on the door swing on an unsteady nail.

"Six. Open the goddamn door," he demands, and hears footsteps not a moment later. She must be pressing her ear to the door.

"Noo-o," she says, drawing out the word with such a tone of indignant, childish, "I'm angry at you," obviousness that he can't help but to smile a little.

"Please?"

The door opens with a deliberate slowness, and the Courier looks up at her traveling companion, makeshift bodyguard, and…best friend. There's a look of admiration on her face, but it's quickly replaced by an angrily raised eyebrow, expectantly narrowed eyes, and arms crossed with more than just a hint of attitude. God, he just wants her.

So, before she has a chance to berate him, he grabs her by the shoulders, pushes her back gently. She makes a small huff of annoyance, but allows the movement, turning her face downwards to watch her steps, watch where she's going.

When she swings her head back up to judge his expression, he takes the opportunity to crash his lips against hers, desperately grabbing for her soft, curvy hips, and stumbling in an effort to get their bodies closer.