A/N: Credit to hel999 on DeviantArt. One of his paintings was the muse for this.
Mojave Wasteland
Dino Dee-Lite Motel
Novac
7:10am, local clock
If you can see the Dino, you're home.
And, once again, the old traveler's adage surrounding the cozy, unassuming town that sat beside the cratered, desolate Nevada freeway that stretched out to the horizon both ways, came true.
If you can see the Dino, you're home.
The sun wasn't high enough to begin baking everything and everyone under it yet, and actually wasn't even putting out enough light to convince the power brokers on the Strip to switch off their neon lights. Even from miles out, the top of Mr. House's casino was glowing and flickering with its usual strong pattern of blue, red, and purple lights like it was a giant Christmas tree...minus the cone shape, needless to say. Around it, though, the distant star that was the sun was stubbornly clawing its way up, like a hapless shmuck who'd ( foolishly, or tragically unknowingly ) blown all his money on the slot machines at Gammorah, and was so drunk from ( again ) blowing his winnings at cheap booze that he couldn't even sit up from his bed. Probably not alone, either, considering the...other services the Gammorah offered.
Yeah...
A good way to relax. Not that Novac had any of that, obviously.
If you can see the Dino, you're home.
But, it was at least that, Derrick reminded himself, as he finally neared the halfway point on the slope of the desolate, crater-riddled and utterly car-less freeway that sprawled its way up toward the town.
Navigating around yet another pothole ( there were more of those than Minnesota, which was a high bar to clear ) that wouldn't ever be fixed anytime soon, the Stetson-wearing man mildly adjusted the carrying strap for his most prized possession: his customized Brush Gun, aka " Medicine Stick ". Though he tended to go around lightly equipped ( he could move quicker that way, and not sacrifice mobility ), he always brought Medicine Stick along for every ride.
The hard-hitting lever action rifle, which he'd handcrafted himself way back using his own tools and workshop before he'd left the lands west of the Rio Grande to come here, had been given a real workout last night, taking on a full-strength patrol ( ie, about barely a dozen ) of Jackal Gang stragglers that'd made the stupid decision to have a go at hitting Ranger Station Delta.
That had been just the previous night, but it was a blue ribbon contender for one of the closest-run fights the former courier had ever gotten through. And that was after he'd nearly been blown sky-high at the Divide, or leading the charge across the Dam personally against the best of Caesar's ( See-zer ) Legion 's Centurions, with their love affair with giant hammers !
Yeah...that last fight topped them.
Easily.
As the ground beneath his thoroughly used ( and excessively dusty ) boots kept going up, Derrick recalled it again..
The Wasteland did that. It always did that, when it came to what you went through on it. The endless sands had all kinds of things happening on them, and just looking at them, even out the side of your eyes...
..was enough to go down memory lane.
An NCR Ranger Station !
The Jackals...that worn down, grungy, barely worth the time of day gang of thugs that couldn't win a fight with a high school basketball team ( like the WNBA ), were attacking an NCR Ranger Outpost !
What idiots.
And yes, that wouldn't have been enough to count as a workout. Usually...except, that said Jackals had been fleeing from a genuine, honest to God pack of Deathclaws. A pack ,of Deathclaws ! It was something out of a comic book, but the foot-long claws swinging like rakes at the end of the Deathclaw arms as they carved up and chopped apart the wailing Jackals was very real, for sure.
Well, there was nothing that Derrick and his other Rangers could do, but light them all up. After just a few seconds, the air was filled with the bark and cracking of 45.-70 Gov't rounds from his Medicine Stick, along with the thunderous boom of Ranger .50 cal Hecate Anti-Materiel rifles. Their giant bullets blasted holes through and sheared off limbs-Deathclaw and Jackal alike- while Derrick's Stick stung like a Cazador, doing plenty of blood-spilling on her own.
A few of the Jackals managed to get it together during the melee to put some shots downrange from their rusty and ill-cared for M14 rifles and M9 pistols, but as they were doing that while doing their damnedest to run away from the ravenous fanged monsters ( and mostly failing, thus getting dismembered at lightning speed ), their aim sucked even more than usual. Not to mention how half of them didn't have anything on other than grimy ( grimy to the point where burning the shirt would be better for you than wearing it ) undershirts, slacks, and hiking boots, which gave them no protection at all form all the fire coming their way.
Honestly, cleaning them up wasn't much of a problem...
...but the Deathclaws were another story.
And oh...what a fight that was...
The Giant lizards, already caught up by their feeding-frenzy, were already hunting for their next meals, and they were smart enough to realize that their last batch of prey had been getting shot from somewhere else- the Rangers, and Derrik, hunkered behind a low sandbag wall at the northwest edge of Echo's perimeter.
Frick, that was not what they wanted. But, it happened anyway, as the Wasteland just didn't care. The creatures from Satan turned their way, and like a hive mind of Robobrains, they all rushed the riflemen , with reddened jaws wide open and soulless eyes glinting like cats.
Tigers, or Lions, specifically.
And they fought like those predators, as well. Even as chunks of their bodies and legs were blown clean off them, trailing crimson blood, they kept on coming. Derrick's ears reverberated from both the noise of all the gunfire, and the profanity of several of the Californian Rangers- Tamara and Jenkins- both, as his own Stick smashed the kneecap of one of the Deathclaws. Which only slowed it down from a Cheetah sprint to a Cheetah jog...and there were still others coming up as well !
Mouth drying up like the desert sand under him, Derrick nonetheless pressed on. He killed at least one of the 'Claws with a headshot, as another finally fell after its chest had been shot so many time it looked like a single bloody pit, but by then, the pack was barely a hundred yards away. A few others of them had fallen, but the rest just jumped and leapt over the corpses, sprinting like the demons they were right at the Ranger positions.
It was the stuff of campfire stories...the kind to scare raw recruits. The kind where you'd remember the thundering power of all that adrenaline filling your veins for years and years afterwards.
But, though it was around that time, more or less, that Derrick began getting just a hint of a feeling that he might not make it through this. It was a chilly, yet bizarrely comforting sensation, the likes of which that he hadn't experienced since he'd battled and slain the Legate Lanius on the top of that hill just past the east end of the Hoover Dam. Going head to head against that borderline giant of a man, swinging a blade that was longer than most men were tall...well, that might as well have been fighting aDeathclaw...minus the fangs.
( Unless, he had them beneath that devilish helmet. There really was no way to know...)
Well...anyway. It'd come down to the wire. Calls and shouts rose from down the length of the firing line to " Prepare to fall back ! ", and Derrick couldn't disagree. They'd have no chance of surviving if the Claws got down to melee range- that was an unflinching death sentence...as opposed to the moderately flexible one of fighting them...while they were rushing you.
That was just a stupid plan, going hand to hand with Deathclaws. You had to kill them at a distance.
Still...it didn't look like they'd pull it off. The Deathclaws...their numbers hadn't been thinned enough to drive them away. Derrick was literally staring down the jaws of death...and though he hadn't even thought of running away and not looking back ( he was no coward ), he didn't like the odds of the fight going their way. Even as another one of the 'Claws collapsed with a hole where one eye should be, spewing its viscera all over the place, the only thing he could think of was just backpedaling like a madman, while aiming for their heads all the way.
Maybe it could...maybe-
But, then it suddenly didn't matter !
Just like that, it didn't matte.
Because, it had been at that moment...that the very unmistakable whine of a Fatman bomb began reaching his ears. It began from somewhere behind him, and got louder as quickly as it always did.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiii...!
Good God...
Who brought one of those ?!
His pulse skipped for a moment; Somebody had launched a Fatman ?! Who ?! There was no time at the moment to run down the list of most likely candidates...but-
Well, that was it: There was no time. Just enough, though, to shove the last few rounds through the reloading slot on the side of the Stick for the umpteenth time , as Jenkins' Hecate rifle shattered the shoulder of one of the Claws, causing it to hang like a broken twig.
BWROOOOM !
Then, the Fatman hit.
Like snapping fingers, the a patch of earth that the Claws were just beginning to run through turned to daylight- like flicking a neon light on the strip itself on. The resulting explosion bloomed rapidly, billowing and churning its way upwards as tsunami waves of burnt orange fire rippled outwards. They washed over the Claws, and all of them, each of who weighed several hundred pounds at a minimum, was tossed. Literally ! The sheer power of the nuke just threw them. Not that much, but they all caught air anyway. Blood and chunks of freshly seared flesh went every which way, as choking clouds of opaque dust and sand rose to block the view downrange.
Then, the echoes of the blast hung around, like a genuine thunderclap.
For only a few seconds, though, and then they went away.
By reflex, Derrick had crouched, hunkering and tightening his shoulders, while still keeping his rifle pointed toward the enemy. He squinted, doing what he could to keep out the brightness of the detonation- Fatman bombs were just strong enough to do that. Granted , this was at night, so the glare wasn't as strong as a daylight blast, but even ignoring that...it was still one heck of a lightshow.
" BBQ 'EM ! ", yelled Tamara, voice thick with triumph. " Roasted ! "
There couldn't have been a better way to put it, Derrick decided at once. Watching the mushroom cloud form high and towering over the shreedded remains of the Deathclaws was a sight to behold, for sure.
His heartbeat was still racing, and booming through his ears. His fingers were sore from clutching his weapons, and he was still riding high on a wave of " fight or flight " fluid, but...oh, and the muzzle of the Stick was smoking like a steamboat ! The tough girl would need a thorough scrubbing and cleaning as soon as he got back to Novac.
" That's what I like to see ! ", exclaimed Jenkins, holding his Hecate high over his head by one hand. " Cooked...! "
Roasted like a brahmin steak, Derrick thought, as he felt a grin pulling on his mouth.
Lord...he was still riding that adrenaline wave, but as the cloud dissipated, the truth of how they'd won this dust-up finally hit home.
Deathclaws. They'd beaten a pack of Deathclaws ! Sure, they'd used an elephant dose of overkill-
..Actually, no. No, there was no " overkill " when it came to Deathclaws. None. Heck, " overkill " itself was a silly concept out on the Wastes anyway- it was always " Use anything you want, and anything you got, as long as you're still standing and they're not ". And when you threw Deathclaws on the table...well, then it truly was all hands on deck, plus pulling out all the stops.
Oh...and getting rid of more Jackals. That was...good, more or less. Honestly, they weren't much of a thing on any day, but...well, they still needed to be cleaned up where they were foolish enough to show their faces.
Them and the blasted Deathclaws. Probably even more so-despite clearing out the horde of them at Sloane Quarry, there were still plenty of the nasty critters prowling the Mojave...too many.
But, after today, no traveler or NCR patrol would have to see the horned demons appearing on the horizon on the plains of the northwest region of the Mojave. At least, not as group, and not for a few weeks. The monster lizards took a long time to grow up,and if you could take out enough of them at once, you'd earn yourself a lot of breathing room.
Damned if it wasn't a touch and go experience from the very beginning, bar none, though.
Worth it, though.
Worth it.
A stretch of rest was still warranted, however.
After all...Deathclaws !
Thank God that Novac wasn't as far south as the Ranger Statues...because that was a trek not worth taking alone. Way too many hostile forms of wildlife congregating there, such as Fire Geckos, or worse...
...Cazadores ! Plural.
Damn you, Think Tank. What were you thinking ?!
Oh, wait. You weren't.
Not for the first time, Derrick expressed thanks that none of the vile flying things had crashed the last night's party- if they had, then he'd have been done for sure.
He'd come pretty close anyway, but Cazadores ! They were only barely beaten out by Deathclaws when it came to raw lethality , and they could freaking fly. Geez, they were nearly as bad. Undertaking a campaign to exterminate them was definitely something that he needed to remember bringing up to Colonel Hsu next chance he got on visiting Camp McCarran..
Better him than Cassandra Moore, anyway. She was a good officer, but had all the methodical and personal touch of a flaming sledgehammer. Hsu, on the other hand, was actually someone you could talk with.
She's out to prove a point, Moore. Gotta act all tough 'cause " Woman surrounded by a male enviroment ".
Compost Heap stuff. Plenty of girls serving with the Army already. ' Course...it could be something else entirely that's put a bee up her bonnet. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Or anyone else.
Still..., though it definitely something that needed getting checked on, it still wasn't here or there. For now, the Texas native was coming up on the Dino itself.
Or, at least its head's top. That was all he could see of it from the crest of the lumpy hills that formed a border on the northeast side of town, but as he kept going, more and more of it showed up. Soon, he could see that wide, ever-yawing mouth with all those chalky white teeth...and though there was no stereotypical glint of sunlight on glass, he knew Manny Vargas was there.
Boone worked nights, after all. The guy from Red Rock Canyon handled the Day Shift, and he would've already seen the lone man approaching by now through the scope of his M24 sniper rifle. Had Derrick been a Jackal, or worse, a Legionnaire, he'd have caught a 7.62mm bullet through the chest.
Or the head, quite possibly. Manny was a good shot.
Nothing to worry about, though. As Derrick crossed over the hill's crown, and began taking the first few steps down the hard-packed sandy surface of the downward slope, he raised an arm and waved.
Way off from a point behind the Dino's lower teeth, he caught a glimpse of movement from where he knew Manny had to be- or was it ? No, couldn't be. The sniper wouldn't let someone see him from the outside, unless they were close enough to be able to hit the Dino with a tossed rock. And by then, he'd have put them down already.
Ok by me. Dekker knew he'd been welcomed , wave-back or not.
After all, when you saw the Dino...you were home.
To be honest, it wasn't fancy.
Not that anything was around here these days...aside from the Strip. Or the McCaran Barracks, which was still military, and yet still pretty good ! But, aside from there, most towns that weren't abandoned throughout the Mojave could be called...at best...improvised.
And that wasn't even talking about the ruins...which was pretty much what most of Las Vegas was these days...aside from Freeside, and the Strip. Oh, and Westside. And McCarran. Outside of them, though, pretty much everywhere you could go had been shattered by the bombs 200 years ago, and those 2 centuries of wear and tear, not to mention getting contaminated by wasteland critters and abused by the likes of the Fiends and Jackals had turned them all to nothing better than...well, than ruins.
Like something out of a history book. Not that many of those still existed either...though the few Derick had found showed everything he'd seen across the Nevada desert as the exact opposite of how it was now.
Specifically, colorful. And without any busted walls, collapsed ceilings, or getting smothered with dust and caking grime. Oh, the back-when days were certainly something else, as Follows-Chalk would call them.
But, even for an atomized wasteland, the pad back at Novac's Dino Dee-Lite Bungalows wasn't that bad when you stacked it against making a home out of Nipton...or worse: The El Rey fleabag Motel. Wait, no...that wasn't its official name, but it was its real name. Just because something was marked on a map didn't mean it was true.
What was, though, was that Derrick's bungalow was practically a palace.
He could see it plain as day, just across the courtyard from the gate set at the center of the chain-link steel fence that circled the whole hotel grounds. It was the one that was one bungalow over from Ranger Andy's-that retired NCR Ranger with the busted up leg.
But, other than always remembering exactly where it was, Derrick's 'Low stood out by other ways. He'd put an honest to God welcome mat out before the door. A welcome mat ! Those were nearly as rare as history books that weren't shredded a dozen times over and/or burnt, and how Cliff Briscoe had managed to come across one was nothing short of a borderline miracle. Heck, the proprietor of the hotel himself admitted he'd gotten it from a traveling merchant once, but that guy he didn't know either...and so on and so forth.
Hey. It was still there, regardless if it'd begun its journey all the way back on Californian soil right outside the NCR Parliament house ( which, if true, would be quite funny if it'd belonged to some politicians, better known as "schemers with suits " among NCR rank and file ). It was his now, it was clean ( as much as a doormat could be ), and it was proudly emblazoned with the Two-Headed Bear symbol of the Republic.
Ulysses would get a whole sonnet out that, the oddball.
The thought of the tribal hermit waxing poetic about a doormat brought another grin to Derrick's face, as he clacked those boots of his together, shaking layers of clumped up Mojave sand and dirt loose. Just to the side of the doormat though, which many would say defeated the purpose of the mat, but Derrick could easily counter that with pointing out that getting one of these was hard enough without muddying it up-that being what it for or not.
Barefoot from walking around on the Bungalow floor would be fine...but otherwise...yeah. The Wastes tended to coat your shoes with all kinds of nasty gunk. Better not to get that on the pristine piece of ground furniture.
Pretty domestic, I got to say...
Like the nukes didn't come down at all.
It always reminded him of that...how things would be if the Great Rain of Fire hadn't happened.
Ah, well...
Derrick looked down at his Pip-Boy, checking the time. Under the shadows given off by the bungalow overhang, he could see that it was now...7:00.
7:00, Pacific Time Zone, specifically..
Still early. The sun was only about a quarter of the way up, and the lights on the strip..
He turned around. Yes...just barely. They were just barely there, but with the sun getting higher by the minute, they'd be out after less than an hour.
But, it still counted as morning. There was time for some R and R before heading back out.
The Rangers of Delta Outpost could handle sending the After Action Report to Camp Golf. Derrick, meanwhile, knew he'd earned some off-time. Not that he didn't love his work, but anyone doing it day by day needed to lie down every now and then.
And, he wouldn't alone, either...
For once, she didn't go hard on partying last night.
For once..heh, heh. Got it form her old man.
Should be awake...probably. I hope so.
A pleasantly warm wave of comfort began washing over him, and he lifted a hand to the door itself.
Knck, knck, knck.
" Hey, Cass ! Guess who's back !? "
As he called his greeting, he shoved his key through the lock, heard it click solidly, and then gave it a good twist.
chk-lk.
The lock disengaged. Grabbing the door's handle, Derrick pushed it open, and stepped across the frame...
...and stopped dead.
Right where he stood.
Not because he'd seen anything shocking, though. Well, shocking to someone who'd spent years walking across the Southwestern USA wasteland back and forth.
Something like another Deathclaw right here, or Ceasar himself standing on the carpet with a Proton Axe...or President Kimball. Aside from any of those contenders, finding an alien like the ones from the crash site at the Horowitz Homestead, way up north.
But, even they wouldn't have frozen him. They were all threats, and he knew how to deal with threats.
What he was seeing right now, though...
...was Cass, lying on her front atop the King-sized bed , across from the couch with that pile of clean clothes he'd left there last night, prior to leaving for Delta. The redheaded former caravan owner from California had a comic book opened up, and had clearly being reading it before the door opened.
On this partially cloudy Saturday morning, Cass was dressed suitably casually. She had her signature shin-high boots on, along with her equally iconic wide brimmed Rattan cowboy hat perched lazily pushed back on her head...
...and...
...nothing else.
Well...
...He had seen his wife nude before, needless to say.
But, darn it...it still had the same effect every time.
..Oh, Lordy...
Derrick couldn't help himself. That earlier sensation of warmth was still around, but it was now concentrating up his back, and chest...
His eyes were drawn to her exposed ass, which was usually riding at the back of her dungarees. Even with those on, it wasn't too hard to see she had a nicely shaped caboose- and now it was fully out.
Oh, and her boobs were resting on the sheets, slightly pressed. On top of all that, sunlight- the golden, early morning kind- was streaming through the windows, and lighting her up from end to end...especially that round backside of hers.
Yep. An umpteenth reminder that Sharon Cassidy had a body that just didn't quit. Ie, one that screamed " woman " across every centimeter.
The thoroughly beautiful sight left the Courier tongue-tied for good few seconds...which was easily long enough for Cass to remark, with a lazy grin and a glint to her eyes:
" Hey there. Liking your...birthday present ? "
...
And just like that...Derrk's was smiling like a...well, like a...
Heck, he was just smiling. Not something wide or cheesy...but real.
If I just wanted a romp, I'd go to Gamorrah and blow caps on the floozies.
Nope. Fine for everyone else...but I'd rather have the whole package.
" ..Frankly, ma'am ? Exactly what I wanted ", he had to confess. " Even if you got me nothing else..."
Derrick spared another lingering glance at the way her rear end curved down gently to meet her back, not to mention the shallow groove down the center. With all the soft, golden light covering her ( the only thing that was covering here at the moment ), she couldn't have looked more gorgeous if she'd wanted to.
Probably would...
...And that's fine by me.
"I can't complain about what I got here, that's for sure. ", the former Courier added, not bothering to hide his unbridled honesty.
" Damn right , you can't... " Cass's lazy smirk now became a smug grin, and she rolled slightly onto one side, revealing more of her shapely chest.
Derrick's pulse revved a notch.
Screw the hookers.
No, not like that.
But, really...Derick didn't want to bother with them. Partially because they did it for caps, but also because they were just curves, and not much else. Drinking straws with swells, basically. A real woman's body was supposed to have more...substance, to it. More healthy mass. Maybe even some padding, if that was your way. Or, going the other direction, muscle. Either way, they looked better and more appealing than the skinny chicks who looked like they'd stepped out of a nudie mag.
And, on top of that ( again, not that kind of on top ), the only guys who went to Gomorrah were the ones who only cared about sex. Everything else a woman could give- female love, understanding, support, and all unconditionally- didn't matter to them. They just wanted to do the deed, and then bounce...and then come back to do it all again tomorrow. They were the ones who couldn't handle a relationship, though whether that was because they had no spine, or were raised by New Reno society was anybody's guess. Still, it was the same regardless, and they were basically just getting the icing of the cake, but not the actual cake.
Well, fine, Derrick had always figured. Nothing could stop that practice, and they had the freedom to waste money and hours of the day ( or night, as the case may be ) any way they wanted. Their mistake to make...
..but not his.
He didn't need to.
"..And, I got you something else I know you'll like. ".
Somehow, the former Courier hadn't lost awareness enough to completely zone out, and caught those last few words. His brows rose, and he couldn't help but blink.
"...Something else ", he repeated.
" Oh, you got that right. ". Cass assured, nodding.
She patted the mattress beside her. " Come over here. I'll tell you what it is. "
Well, only a total fool would have dragged his heels at that point. And the Texas man who'd walked the wastes of the Mojave till he knew front and back was certainly no fool. He didn't understand nuclear psychics, granted, but he was no fool.
A man must do what he must, eh ?
Oh, the things we're called upon for..
He offered a shrug, as if doing as she asked was nearly too much- but his own smile gave the truth away. " As you wish, ma'am. "
Cass giggled, which was a sound she did not make among the public. It was a lighthearted, girlish sound that seemed so at odds with her tough-cookie- shotgun-brandishing persona she put on when they were out and about, and yet still fit her.
It was a gumball on top of the ice cream cone, so to speak.
" If you call me that more often...I wouldn't mind, y'know "., she playfully stated, as Derrick proceeded to methodically remove articles of clothing from himself. " Kinda sounds formal, but not that stupid stuck up way they talk at Ultra Luxe. "
" You're not wrong, honey..". Derrick carefully tossed his hat onto the couch, before ejecting the chambered round from Medicine Stick, rendering it safe, and laying the weapon onto the dresser nearest the door-made of actual wood, and sanded too.
As he took his jacket off, tossed it onto the couch, and began prying off both boots ( beginning with the right ), he continued, " There's a reason we don't go there anymore. Heck Gunderson choked off their beef supply till they came clean to everyone about that cannibalism stuff, and after that, they're just a weird country club. Not worth a cap. "
Down to just a t-shirt and carpenter's jeans by now, Derrick got rid of the latter, and sent them to join the jacket. He was then just beginning to lift the shirt up to pull it off...when Cass had something else to say.
" Hey now- let me handle that. "
Oh, now her tone had taken on a very certain note.
Looking over at her, Derrick found a matching glint to her deep blue eyes. She was pointing squarely at the shirt, and there was no mistaking what she wanted.
Now it was his turn to laugh. " You're making this the best B-Day ever. And you haven't even moved a millimeter. "
" I don't need to ", Cass triumphantly pointed out. " But you do..."
Well, that was another reason ( with finding out what else she'd gotten for him for the day that comes once a year ) to hustle, so hustle Derrick did.
" Sure- why not ? As long I get to remove those boots and that hat myself, you got a deal. "
" Hmmm ". hummed Cass, as if it was actually a hard choice for her. She made a brief show of pretending to consider it..
"...You drive a harder bargain than the one you bought my caravan with. But...ok. You got a deal. "
Ha...!
You're good. As always.
" I knew you'd come around ", Derrick laughed, now really enjoying the moment.
" You were always reasonable...even with your rep of sparking off bar fights. "
" Hey , for me, that's a hobby ", the caravaneer reminded him. " Or...should I say, us. You're always around for 'em. "
" True. "
" No kidding. Anyway... ".
She canted her head enticingly. " Its rude to keep a lady waiting. "
The thought of this chick who had no qualms about reeling off cusswords that would have a SEAL blushing, carried a shotgun around everywhere , and pounded the hard stuff at snap of a finger calling herself a lady should've been funny- and it actually was. The Courier had to bite back a laugh at the thought...though, he still had to admit: it also fit. Growing up on the frontier made anybody a tough one, even the ladies.
Though, thankfully, it also didn't stop them from being ladies.
Not wasting another moment, made his way over to where Cass lay. Climbing onto the mattress, he let her grab him and firmly tug him down toward her- right as he swept her hat off her red head. She giggled- again, it was amazing to hear- at the action, then pulled her legs up to give Derrick a better reach at getting rid of the boots.
Right on point...
Atta girl.
Accepting the offer, Derrick took hold of one boot, and rocked it back and forth till he'd gotten it free. Flinging it to the floor, he did the same for the other.
And , now Cass was one hundred percent unclothed. Nothing whatsoever on her. Nude as the day she was born...and more beautiful than Derrick could describe.
Then again...she looked distractedly pretty with her everyday getup of dungarees held with a prominent buckled belt, a checkered button down shirt, and that always-undone jacket. That went without saying.
But...honestly, this was a special kind of beautiful. Seeing a woman who was willingly completely exposed for you was was...ethereal. Nothing was better than to see. It was like a dream, except you were awake for it.
" Finally ", murmured Cass, as Derrick gently cupped her jawline, and then kissed her on the lips.
Deeply, and firmly.
She did the exact same right back, and between them, the world began slipping away.
" Mmmm..."
Just a slightest of moans escaped the redhead's mouth, but it was audible nonetheless. A shiver ran up Derrick's spine...
Without ending the kiss, he laid down beside her, and slipped an arm around her back, pulling her closer. By reflex, her own arm came around, and slipped its way over him. Her fingertips dug down onto his back, as her boobs met and pressed against his chest.
Derrick exhaled, just a whisper, and let a hand glide down to rest on Cass's hip. He squeezed, savoring the way that softness and firmness came together.
All that drinking did the former, but the days of walking all over the Mojave under the Southwestern USA sky, and getting shot at by raiders, Legion troops, and nearly chewed up by everything that had legs and a jaw of sharp teeth...well, that would do the opposite.
A healthy amount of weight.
He pulled himself closer to it, barely remembering that she'd said she'd secured a gift or two for him. To be fair, however...she wasn't saying anything either. And that wasn't even accounting for how their lips kept locking...
Or the way their hands kept roaming all over each body. They stopped to linger at all the usual places, and between that and the heavy duty making out, the endorphin rush was now at full strength. Firing on all cylinders, reactor turbines spinning with all the superheated steam they could handle, every neuron firing, and so on.
Only two things made Derrick feel this alive- the midst of robust combat, or...what he was doing now.
He'd done the first last night. He would do it again as well. But, here and now...
...he'd have the second.
And the gifts ? Well, as much as he was sure they mattered..
They could wait.
Eventually, though, the roller coaster had to coast to a stop.
Coming off the high was bittersweet, but at least the sweet piece of it lingered for longer...and even better, stronger. That, and how this definitely wasn't the first time they'd done this all blended together, and what they ended up with was an amazing slide to a soft halt.
Soft, and firm.
And, the right kind of both, too. The girls of Gomorrah ( or the ones back at the New Reno's Cat's Paw ) could give you the same feeling, sure...for a price. That's what ruined it, frankly. All that warmth and comfort of the female body on you, plus her undivided attention and fondness...it was all bought.
Sure...some would always go for that. Always. But, not Derrick.
He had no need to.
Because, he had something better.
"...Man, I hate leaving our vacation house on Cloud 9.. ", the Courier lamented, as he lay with both arms still around the redhead woman he'd found on the bed.
" But, every time's worth it. And on a day like today ? That goes double. "
" Not a triple ? ", Cass faux-complained. " Now I feel cheap. "
Derrick clicked his tongue. " Hang that. You're way ahead of them. I can kill Centaurs and Super Muties with you one second, and then you can listen to all my amateur guitar songs the next. And...there's this. Which is the best way this special day could've begun.."
" Hey- you're not catching me complaining either ", Cass reminded him.
" True...but who's idea was it to wait around for who to come back, while lying nude ? ", countered Derrick, mouth getting tugged as a grin as he glanced over at her freckled face.
Said face was one of utter content, needless to say, and only got better with a mouth-tug-smile of its own. " Guilty. But, it sure made things sweeter, huh ? "
" It did. You bet it did..", confirmed Derrick, gently massaging Cass' side with one hand...and then proceeding to cup her right boob. Or maybe it was her left. He wasn't sure.
Mostly because he wasn't looking. But, he didn't need to.
" I know you heard this before...well, maybe not..."
" Don't let me tie your tongue, Crane...", Cass teasingly employed one of her secret nicknames for him. " Keep going... "
How could I stop with that kind of encouragement ?
I couldn't.
So, he didn't. " ...I was pretty sure you were going to blow me off after the first 15 seconds. ", Derrick admitted, obliging her. " I mean, you threatened to hit me till my eyes spun, remember ? "
" I do...and then you had the freaking gall to ask if I could even see you from the depths of my glass ! "
" It was thick with rum ", the Courier recalled. " That stuff looks like melted caramel. I had a valid reason ! "
Cass reached out, and tickled his right shoulder lightly. " No you didn't ! "
" Ah-hey ! Not there...! ", Derrick objected, biting back laughter.
Cass was just being exploitative now.
She couldn't be allowed to get away with it. No way ! But, that was another perk to having her..
Having fun.
Derrick tickled her back, right around her navel. It was her weak spot, and now she was the one laughing.
" Hahha,hehe- that's just cheating..! "
" ...You- geez- you got to stop distracting me like that..! "
" Distracting you from what ?! ", challenged the Courier.
He said that, but he was pretty sure it was the " other two gifts " she'd mentioned earlier. There couldn't reasonably be anything else.
Then again...it was a ball to drag it out like this.
Just mess with her...a tad...
" What is it ? I don't know..."
"...Oh, ok. I suppose you've finally weaseled it outta me.."
Admitting she couldn't hold it off any longer, basically. Not with so many words, but close enough.
Deftly, the California girl partially sat up, and then promptly swung one shapely leg up and over to then straddle the Courier. After just a second or so of moving, she'd gone from lying beside ( and kinda wrapped around ) him, to basically riding on him.
She knew it was his thing. Kinda leaned toward that " cowgirl " handle he'd given her..
" Hmm... ". Derrick comfortably let himself rest against the bed backboard, and looked right at the eyes of the lady planted across his hips. " And I thought today was as good as it got. "
" Oh, and who said it couldn't ? ", Cass dared.
She leaned forward enticingly. " Maybe a new belt, with the Texas State outline on it ? Ask me where I got it, and I'll tell ya- but for now, remember I got you two of them. "
Oh, my home and beloved land.
Texas. Derrick hadn't ever forgotten that amazing nation. He still considered himself a citizen of the Lone Star Republic , even though he'd left it long ago to find more adventure and employment with the Mojave Express. Back then, when he'd hit the cratered roads out of El Paso headed East, the LSR wasn't much more than some scattered city-states, but it was still enough to leave him loving that place as strongly then, as he did now.
He still had the hat from El Paso, and Medicine Stick. He still had the twang, and the love of guns. He even planned to bring Cass back there once his service with the NCR was over. But, till then, he had to content himself with anything that reminded him of it.
And, Cass had secured some of those exact treasures for him ?
...She really was the one.
Now smiling openly, Derrick rubbed palms on Cass's thighs, pressing down, before finally commenting, " Asking can absolutely wait. You got that right, for sure. Not sure how I can top that for your own B-day..."
Cass smirked again. " Today's about you, remember ? 'Sides, its not a problem...not even close. "
I called it.
She's the one.
The redhead dropped her tone, down low, almost a whisper, for the first time that morning.
It had to mean...something. But, what ?
It wasn't long, though...
" And that last thing..."
Ohh...here it comes
What it is though...yeah. That's still a major question mark
Derrick did his best to guess by studying her face...but it was still vague.
Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, yes, and her recurring smile was as bright as ever. It could mean...well, it could mean a lot of things, actually.
What, though...?!
Well, only one way to find out..
" ..Got a captive audience, Cass. I'm all ears. "
He couldn't have meant both if he wanted.
And, after another moment..
Cass took air through her lips, and then had something to say. "...You remember the last time we...y'know...did this ? "
Derrick raised both brows. " How could I forget ? That was when we had that...thing with the whipped cream. Your idea, by the why. "
" Heheheh...that's the one, yes. Well, after that, the the Rangers dragged you off for Frontier duty. Haven't seen ya since then, and Its been lonely..."
She bit her lip, as what looked like nervousness appeared.
" But, I learned something when you were gone. Something you need to know...but, its one I know you'll love."
With that, she slowly reached out, took one of Derrick's hands...and guided it to rest on her belly.
Then she met his gaze.
Held it for another second...and then spoke again.
Deliberately. Directly...and, a touch nervously.
What's going...?
And that's when Derrick's curiosity ended.
Came to a crashing, thundering end.
"...I'm pregnant. ", Cass confessed.
Fireworks exploded...like the ones over the Sierra Madre. Their heat overlapped, and was filling. You could feel them, like you'd eaten hot coals.
Time slowed, like you were dreaming. As if you could detect every heartbeat of yourself, every moment you breathed...
Your limbs didn't repond. They were made of steel and lead, and you couldn't move.
Why ?
Because joy, that's why. Joy...and fear. A lot of fear.
But, so much joy as well. They were neck and neck for strength, and together, they were wrapping you up and shutting you down. You couldn't do anything, and you couldn't speak, either.
Not a word.
Derrick was experiencing it all, at full blast.
Full power. His mouth came open a slit, but no sound came out.
Not for a good few seconds. All he could do...was look at her.
She was smiling ear to ear now, and those eyes were dancing.
...The gift.
The gift...!
Oh, God...
" You're...you. ", he finally managed.
He looked down, where his hand was.
Geez, now it made sense why she'd felt softer these last few days, or why her breasts had been more pliable.
Or, why she'd been drinking something sweet when Derrick arrived.
The pieces were all falling to place now...all of them.
It was coming together...
For them.
" Yes. ", Cass assured him, nodding. Her voice trembled, but didn't crack, as her hand clenched around his, and then she placed her other over it as well.
" You'll see. Its happening, Crane. I ...I sure as heck hope you're ready to be a dad. "
...
...
...And Derrick still couldn't speak.
Still couldn't.
All he could do, was close his eyes, and lean forward slowly...till his head met Cass' chest just above those boobs, where her collarbone was gently padded. He put his arms around her, and hugged her hard.
She hugged him right back, just as hard, and lowered her own head, till it rested at the base of Derrick's neck. She pulled him toward her...or was it her toward him? Not important, because they were closer, and that's what mattered.
Above all else.
Well, stratosphere above.
Something he didn't know how much he wanted.
Something he didn't know he'd dreamed of.
Something that hit him more than anything else ever had...
..but, it was good. It was amazing. It was...
...wonderful.
" ...I love you, Sharon Cassidy.."
He let himself speak without thinking...and it came out perfectly.
" I love you. "
The woman he'd said it to didn't let him go.
"...Good news, Courier...", she murmured, holding him close.
"...I love you too. "