Okay, this one is written a little differently, and I'd had a beer or two beforehand so I'm not even sure if you kids will like the subject matter. But I like how it came out even if it is crazy mushy to the point of making me want to puke.

This story contains:
LW/Butch, mushy mushy baby talk stuff, slight-sexy-almost-not-really-tiemz, possibly swearing. I'm too lazy to go over my own stories. T_T

"Enclave power armour, huh?"

I watched as Flak examined the loot, fidgeting with panels and checking all the wiring as in place. Sometimes I wished he didn't know his stuff.

"Hmm… it's in good condition. Guessing you didn't kill its owner first?"

"Nope. Found it in a crate."

He shrugged and placed it back down on the bench. "At any rate, there's a lot of materials in there I can source. I'll give you… 100 caps."

"No way. 350."

"200."

"250."

He paused for a moment, before sighing and opening the register. "Should have known better than to try to bargain with you of all people… here." Once he was done counting, he placed the caps in my hand. "All yours."

I quickly poked each one with my index finger, making sure it was all there, before closing my hand and placing them in my pocket. "Nice seeing you, Flak."

With a smile I walked away. While, realistically speaking, it was worth way more than 250 caps, I'd be dreaming if I thought I was going to find anyone willing to pay it. I'd had to pay Butch's tab last night… again, 50 more caps and I'd have had it all back. I made a mental note to remind him when I got back to our room.

A figure smiled at me as I made my way towards the marketplace stairs and I knew exactly what it wanted. Father Clifford had a way of making me feel guilty if I didn't fork over some caps for the church, and he'd make me feel worse when Butch refused to donate… which was always. As much as I hated saying no to him, I hated being out of Stimpacks.

"Ah, Catherine, may Saint Monica bless you!" he greeted, arriving at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Hi, Father Clifford…"

"And how are you today?"

"Uh, I'm great, I'm actually kind of in a hurry…"

Completely ignoring me, he gently placed his hand on my upper back and began to guide me along as, to my displeasure; we began to walk leisurely towards Gary's Galley. "Now, Catherine, I've been meaning to have a chat with you."

Oh no, here it comes. The church needs more money, I guess. "Have you?"

"Yes, it's a very important matter… you see, Catherine, I've heard some things."

I raised an eyebrow. This was not what I had expected to hear at all, unless he was just finding more tact and clever ways to sucker me out of my caps. "Uh… what?"

"I've heard some… rumours… and I hope they aren't true, and Catherine, before I begin I want you to know that I bring this up only out of deep concern for you."

"Oh, uh, okay then?"

"It's about you and your friend… Mr DeLoria…" he began, a frown beginning to appear. I knew it. I braced for him to ask for the caps… "You see, I've been hearing that you two have been sharing a room at the Weatherly for quite some time. Is this true?"

What? "Uh… yes, we have…"

"I see… and I've noticed that you two are… more than just friends."

I pursed my lips. Jesus, I thought I'd done a good job at keeping the whole playful-ass-grab thing to a minimum. "Well… uh… you could say that."

"Now, forgive me for sounding intrusive, but I certainly hope that you two are not breaking Saint Monica's trust in you out of wedlock." I couldn't help but cringe when he said this, he put it way more delicately than I'd be comfortable with.

"Well I hardly think that's your business…"

"It may not be mine, but it is Saint Monica's."

"Uh, well… anyway, you don't need to worry." I lied. Goddamnit, talking to this guy was like talking to one of the Vault elders.

"I see…" he stopped and faced me. "Well, I offer this to all the unmarried couples in Rivet City, but when the time comes I would be more than happy to join you two in-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I interrupted, trying as hard as I could to sound less than rude but probably failing. "Thankyou for the offer but that won't be happening!"

He frowned, crossing his arms. I could feel the disappointment and even though I didn't particularly like him, it stung. "Well, the offer is always there… and remember, Saint Monica is watching."

As I continued to walk away, I heard the caps clatter in my pocket. At least he didn't ask for a donation.

--

"So, how'd it go?" he asked me, watching me unload my medical supplies onto the table.

"Good. I got 250 caps for it."

"Sweet! That's almost the whole tab."

"Yeah, too bad you're still going to pay me back for all of it." I laughed, watching Butch as he sighed and looked guilty as a puppy.

"Aww, come on, Cat. Can't I just pay you back in hair cuts?"

"Butch, I don't have that much hair. It's not like I'm asking for it right now, anyway."

"Shoulda' stuck to wine…" He groaned, throwing his head back in despair. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Should have thought about that before you drank 300 caps worth of alcohol and then I had to carry you back to the room."

He chuckled and approached me from behind, draping his arms around my shoulders in a sort of half-hug. "Oh, but you enjoyed it."

"I did not!" I laughed.

"Nuh uh, you totally loved having the Butch-man all over you. You musta' felt like the luckiest girl in the bar."

"Butch, you smelt like scotch and kept drinking the drinks you bought for me. And it's not hard for me to feel like the luckiest girl in the bar when the bar is the Muddy Rudder."

"Come on, Cat, all eyes were on us."

"Yeah, because you were so drunk that you tried to fight Brock and he just laughed at you…"

"Hey, if I hadn't had passed out when we got back…" he laughed, slowly beginning to drag me backwards to the bed. "Maybe we should uh, make up for lost time?"

I rolled my eyes as he fell back onto the bed, taking me with him. He was such a kid sometimes… "Oh, that reminds me. I had the creepiest conversation today…"

"Oh?" he asked, burying his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. I could tell he wasn't listening. Did all men have one-track minds like this?

"Yeah, Father Clifford asked if we've been having sex."

He paused, laughing. "You bein' serious?"

"I couldn't make something like that up if I wanted to, Butch. I sort of lied and denied it, and then he suggested we get married!" I laughed. "Can you believe that? Married? Hah!"

It took a minute before I realised Butch wasn't laughing, but staring at me curiously. "What's so wrong with that?"

In seconds, every breath of laughter drained out of me. "What?" He didn't just seriously ask me what I think he did, right?

"What's wrong with getting married?"

There was a silence as I sat there, my jaw wide open, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "Butch…" I began. "W-what are you getting at? You want to get married?"

He looked down, probably trying to keep his usual air of bad-boy cool, and crossed his arms. "Hell no! No way! I'm a Tunnel Snake, I don't have time for that stuff."

"Then why say that?" I asked. "I mean, you sounded like..."

"Like I wanna get married?" he cut in. "There is no way I'm getting hitched."

I smirked a little; this was a new side of Butch I hadn't seen before. A little inadvertently sweet of him… "So… you never want to have kids, anything?" I asked, trying to take advantage of this.

He glanced at me and shrugged. "Well, maybe one day, but I ain't got time for no brats. So you'd have to take care of 'em."

"Me?" I laughed. "Woah, who said anything about us having kids? Butch, you're scaring me… marriage, kids… what's with this?"

"Well I just figured that well, you know…" he shrugged, still trying to keep the reigns and seem tough. "I ain't gonna be young forever, you know? And I gotta have someone to keep the Tunnel Snakes goin' when we're both old… and we've been… you know… for this long… so…" He trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

I, on the other hand, smiled. "Butch DeLoria, that is the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard you say…"

"Well don't get used to it, I'm gonna have to be pretty old."

"So… sorry, I need to make sure I'm not dying of rad poisoning, one day, you'd like me to be the mother of your children – is that what you're saying?"

"I guess so, yeah…." He sighed, a bit of guilt in his voice. "Would you uh… wanna have 'em?"

I laughed. "Well, I've never thought about it… I guess maybe after Enclave is all gone and Project Purity is national… but that's a long time away…"

Butch laid down on the bed, gesturing for me to join him as we shared a bit of a pensive mood about our future. I joined him, his chest against my back with one arm casually thrown over me, our fingers interlaced.

"Hey, Butch… can you promise me something?" I asked, not sure how well this question would go over.

"Shoot."

"Well…" I took a deep breath. "If it ever… does happen… like… if we have a kid one day and it's a boy… promise me you'll name him James, okay?" I asked, the fear of meeting my mother's fate creeping up on me.

For a moment I thought I'd have to explain my request to him, but when he nodded and whispered "Promise." it became apparent I didn't have to.