Note: I don't even

Minor continuity edit

Maggie woke up with one arm across the edge of the bed, fingertips trailing along the floor, wearing nothing more than a t-shirt. She jerked awake and pushed herself up from the top of the bed cover, feeling a bit nauseous and more than a little hungry.

For a moment she sat on her heels on the bed, staring at the wall, rubbing her eyes and wondering just how drunk she'd gotten. Didn't have any bruises, no red marks or bites―Maggie grumbled to herself. That only happened once, and it had been her wedding night, so she was pretty sure she knew who did it. Stupid fucking Benny.

Didn't have anything on but the shirt, though, no underwear to speak of. She hoped for a second or two that she'd tempted Boone too many times. Did have a vague memory of pinching someone's butt, probably his. Remembered―aw, fucking hell, she was gonna have to go talk to Swank.

And... poor Boone, getting shot in the butt because he was protecting her from the stupid Chairman. She grinned to herself. It was funny, but it wasn't funny that Swank had the balls to order out a hit on her, even if he didn't know who she was.

And totally not funny that Boone was actually injured, especially from something so stupid and preventable. She didn't like that. Not one bit. Boone was all she had to keep her ass out of trouble―

She ran a hand along her own scar, feeling the jagged edge and remembering the pain. It was Carla's knife that made the scar. Maggie's fault for turning her up and making her fight her, but Carla was the one who actually stabbed her.

It hadn't really endeared Carla to Nero. She scoffed to herself. Like it mattered, now. Here was Maggie thinking no one loved her but him, only to find out it was the opposite―everyone but him.

God, she was fucking stupid.

Maggie snorted, ran a hand though her hair and put her feet on the floor. Her stomach was starting to yell at her real loud, complaining it needed food. "You're outta luck, you grumbly bastard," she said, poking herself. "Like I know how to fucking cook."

Eventually she was too hungry to care and walked to the kitchen, peeking into rooms along the way and looking for Boone. Sleeping in the guest room. Maggie grabbed up some fruit and stood in the doorway, staring at him.

He looked like a little boy, when he was asleep. Face all slack and body less stiff than he was during the day. All that worry on his face, all that tenseness he put off, gone. She snickered at him drooling on the pillow, then retreated to her room and got dressed, thinking about the schedule.

Wasn't much of one. She had to go tell House she was done with the Nellis crap. Wasn't sure where all this shit was gonna lead her. Was pretty sure she'd already be dead at this point.

Maggie paused while pulling on her boots and stared at her hands on the leather, blankly. Shit, maybe she really wouldn't die.

She sighed, rubbed her face, and brushed her hair back. Might as well go report.

House told her that he wanted her to deal with the Brotherhood of Steel. Maggie vaguely remembered some men in metal armor clashing with the tribes in the desert, when she was a real little kid. But couldn't say much about them one way or another. She didn't make any promises to him. What he wanted done... sounded like it was too fucking smart for an uneducated party-girl. Like Maggie.

"Listen, Mr. I'm-a-big-ass-computer―" she started. House's monitor made a disapproving noise. "No, man, I'm fucking sick of it. You know I can't do all that― destroying a bunker? Seriously? Like I have the know-how to work a fucking computer?" She scoffed and put her hands on her hips, staring at him. "Not to mention I got enough fucking grudges of my own to deal with, and you're asking me to take care of some petty bullshit between you and the goddamned Brotherhood?"

"I take it you are unhappy with the task," House said, without emotion.

"Unhappy is not a strong enough word," Maggie snarled. "Will not ever do, do not want, get the fuck out of my face, you goddamn idiot, maybe."

"You do realize that if I had not had Victor following you, you would be buried in that cemetery still? Your debt to me is one of life, Magdalene." He paused a moment. "And you haven't proven yourself a worthwhile employee, exactly."

She stared up at his face for a moment. "...I get that," Maggie said. "But I'm not gonna go poke a stick at a bunch of people who got laser rifles and big fucking armor just because you don't like them and they won't play your stupid game. It ain't my thing."

"That's regrettable," House said. "We really cannot move forward with the plan for New Vegas until they are dealt with."

Maggie scoffed, turned around, and left. Stupid fucking Not-At-Home.

"Boooooooone," she said, poking him in the side. "Boone!"

He grumbled and covered his head, turning over. Muttered something about leaving him alone. Maggie raised her eyebrows and pursed her mouth, then grinned. C'mon, Maggie, don't―nope, she told herself. I have to. It's gonna be funny, trust me.

"Alright, man, I tried to do this easy," she said, and crawled on top of him, straddling his hip. "C'mon, Boone, get up. I ain't got all fucking day to hang around this shit-hole."

"Leave me alone, Carla," he muttered. "Tired of it."

Maggie laughed. "Carla!" She pulled back a fist, scooted backward, and laid a sharp punch into his side. "Get up, you goddamn jerk!"

Boone grabbed her hand, blinking sleepily up at her sitting on his thigh. It was a long moment before he released her and turned onto his back, throwing her over the edge of the bed. Maggie yelled and caught herself, throwing her hands down to the floor, then swore up and down at him. Her leg was trapped under him―

"Serves you right," he muttered, pulling her upright and onto the bed. "Not very fair to wake me up like that. Punching people in their sleep." He wiped his face and groaned.

Maggie stared down at him, mildly amused. She moved herself to sit on top of his waist, and grinned. "Well," she said, "I figured this would make you feel better." Her hands went to his chest, rubbing him lightly.

"You do realize if you keep that up, we'll be right back where we started." Boone's eyes bore into hers, his face serious. "I mean it."

"Yeah, but, you know," Maggie sighed contentedly, and leaned her elbows onto his chest, putting her chin in her hands. "We're both fucked, anyway."

"Get off of me," Boone said, grumbling. "Christ, Maggie."

She saw a tiny smile on his face. Hah, she had to screw with him, now. He liked it, her being on top, and he owed her, anyway. Jerk. She moved from the bed to the doorway, then turned back to face him. "I tried to convince you last night," she said. "Now you went and forced my hand." She pulled the door shut. "This is all your fault."

Boone rubbed his face again, then sat up. "Shit," he said. "You're serious."

" 'Course I am," she said, leaning on the door. "I tried, but nooooo, you weren't having it―"

"Because you were drunk, and―" he groaned, standing up.

"Now." Maggie moved forward, and looked down at him with her eyes narrowed and face stern. "Strip out of your pants and let's see where that bullet went," she said, matter-of-fact.

Boone held his breath for a moment, then slumped down onto the edge of the bed and put his hands over his face, laughing. "Oh, shit, Maggie―"

"What? You thought I was gonna make you have sex with me?" She snorted. "In your dreams, you jerk! C'mon, let me see your butt, get that shit taken care of."

Boone shook his head, shaking with laughter. "You're terrible, Maggie."

"Yeah, everyone keeps telling me I'm a horrible person," she said, evenly. "But you know, I always figured they were just jealous." She patted Boone's shoulder and threw down a doctor's bag. "I am serious. Get them pants off or I'll have to do it the hard way, and I don't think you want to know what the hard way is."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, still chuckling.

"I ain't no fucking ma'am," Maggie scoffed, watching him.

Body language. She smiled, seeing him take off the armor, remembered she liked how he moved. Muscles in the legs. He swaggered, like a tough guy.

"Hard to look tough when someone's pulling a bullet out of your ass, ain't it," she said, smirking.

"Shut up, Maggie," he said. "It isn't funny."

"Kind of is, though," she laughed.

"Just you wait 'til I have to do this for you," he grumbled. Maggie only laughed at him again.

When she was finished, she left him to get dressed. Shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall and kicked herself in the back of the head because―fuck, she wanted to make him roll around with her in the bedsheets, real bad. She covered her eyes and bit her lip and pushed away the want, reminding herself that there was still work to do.

Shit, and she didn't even know where to start with that Brotherhood crap. If she could even do it.

"We're gonna go talk to the Chairmen," Maggie said, through the door. "Really don't want to do the other shit."

"Whatever you say," Boone said, opening the door. He was smiling at her, gently. She looked away before her face flushed, and had Victor call up the elevator.

"Maggie, you gorgeous gal, how are ya." Swank smirked at her from the other side of the counter.

"Oh, you know," she said, flippantly. "Running around Vegas, being a bitch. Staying alive." Her voice got harder. "No thanks to certain assholes with aspirations."

"Jingo said he explained that to you," Swank replied, sounding wounded. "Baby, you know I'd never hurt you."

"Swank, that is the exact same thing Benny used to say to me, and you know what?" She leaned over the edge of the counter. "I'll be damned if he didn't shoot me in the goddamn head."

Swank's dark eyes swept over her face, then up at her scar, and he nodded, slowly. "I dig it, baby. So, you came by to make sure you weren't gonna get another lead kiss?"

"Damn straight," she said, slamming her fist down. "I never knew you were hot for Marjorie, though. It's awful sweet of you to go taking care of things for her, like that." Her mouth curled up into a slow grin. "Aw, but does she even know?"

"I'll thank you to keep that information to yourself, Maggie," Swank said, quite seriously. "What I do in my spare time is 'nunya'."

"Yeah, you know I don't care," she muttered.

"Listen, I won't go ruffling your feathers so long as you keep the peace." He glanced at Boone quickly, then looked back to her. "We all had reason to be hot in the collar, but we're apologizing, dig?"

"It's not a problem, Swank. I only came by to make sure you got the message, and to pick up some of my things." Maggie feigned disinterest, looking at her fingernails. It was none of her business what he did with the Ultra-Luxe boss, anyway. And she really didn't care, in the end.

Swank considered her for a moment. "Maggie, you aren't gonna steal nothing, now are―"

She slapped her hand down and leaned into his face, baring her teeth. "Listen to me, you grimy little cocksucker―"

"Ah, I love it when you cuss at me," Swank interrupted, grinning. "Go on, I'm just fuckin' with ya." He waved her off, his face split into two almost.

"Stupid little shit," Maggie muttered, making her way into the casino. Boone followed behind, shaking his head. She stopped after a moment. "Hey," she turned to Boone. "Um, I'm gonna go grab some of my clothes. Won't take long. You wanna wait here?"

"And miss a tense elevator ride?" Boone chuckled at her. "Gladly."

"Keep it up, you jerk, see where it gets you." She pressed the elevator button a little harder than necessary.

"Right now it's getting me away from a mean lady," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall.

"Oh! Oh, I am gonna hit you so fucking hard, Craig!" she said, throwing a finger up in his face. "Just you wait, you―oooh!"

"Your car is here, you better go." He smiled at her, chuckling.

"I'm not finished with you!" Maggie said, ducking into the elevator and growling to herself. As the doors closed she yelled out, "I'll get you, for that one!"

"I'll bet," he said, just before the doors closed.

Oh, thank God, Maggie told herself. She didn't know if she could have withstood being in the car with him, alone. She leaned against the wall and sighed, touching her chest. Her heart was doing that stupid flutter again, for being teased by him.

It wasn't fair. She didn't know what to do. Wanted to be with him but―but couldn't trust herself, couldn't trust him. She remembered the drunken antics, she knew she had been stupid. She really shouldn't be anywhere alone with him because that was how it was gonna end. With her on top of him like that morning, but without clothing and him in a much better mood.

Maybe a little more teasing. Maggie sighed and closed her eyes, smiling.

Well, I can still dream about it, at least. Maybe once this stupid shit with House is over with, there'll be a chance. And... and no more weird shit between us about Nero and Carla and... and all that.

She entered Benny's rooms and ignored the bloodstains, walking to the bedroom and looking around. Nah, she didn't even want to think about anything that went on here―should just get the clothes she'd forgotten before, and go. She turned to a wardrobe and opened it.

A funny beeping caught her attention. Maggie looked up and around the corner. "What the hell," she muttered.

Another fucking robot. Maggie groaned and ignored the damn thing, looking around the room with squinting eyes. "So this is where Benny used to hide from me, huh?" She scoffed. "All them fucking times I couldn't find his ass, and I thought he was out horsing off with some woman."

"This is Benny's workshop. When the Tops got renovated, he had this half of the floor blocked off for his own use." The robot's cheerful face turned to watch her as she moved around.

"I figured he had some secret thing." Maggie sighed. "So who the hell are you?" The robot started to reply but she cut him off. "Alright, listen to me. Benny's dead. I'm your new boss. Tell me... what the fuck is going on?"

"Oh! That's a shame, but I'm glad to meet you!" The Securitron annoyed her, but she let him continue. "I'm Yes Man! Benny wanted to kill Mr. House and use the Platinum Chip to copy my neuro-computational matrix onto the Lucky 38's mainframe. That would give me control over all of Mr. House's defenses, most prominently his Securitrons. And then I guess I just do as I'm told!"

Maggie stared at him, open mouthed.

Then she laughed until she couldn't breathe.

Benny had just handed her Vegas on a silver platter.