Honestly, Dorrien was only somewhat certain that this wasn't going to end in an untimely death, for the both of them. Dogmeat wasn't stupid, and though loyal, the young wanderer was sure that his companion would flee if things became too strenuous because Butch didn't know what he was doing. Shame too, Dorrien had hired Charon to assure himself that he wouldn't have to focus while they were traveling; things felt so backwards, that he wished that he could bring the ghoul along too, but, due to the hostilities between him and Butch, he knew something of that sort wouldn't end well. Lips pressed into a thin line, arms tight around a cold body, metal at his cheek and a hand at his back, patting there for a few moments before it came to a rest.
"I should come with you." Charon spoke, voice even, and the red head glanced up at him, only looking away when he heard a huff of disapproval from Butch behind him.
"I'm sorry." He couldn't quite think to say anything else.
Charon was right, clearly, but Dorrien didn't want to have to worry about an argument where ever they were, and not only that, he was sure that Butch would feel effeminate, or something else completely ridiculous. Sighing out a low sound, he pulled back from the ghoul, fingers briefly remaining at his sides before he decided to cross his arms over his chest. Charon averted his eyes, shaking his head, taking a few steps back from the other male. Dorrien then followed his eyes to Butch, and though the Tunnel Snake wasn't exactly pleased about the whole situation, he did look at least the slightest bit sympathetic.
"Charon, you know, you can go back to Underworld – I'll come back and visit you, promise."
For a long moment, the ghoul just stared at him, before sitting himself down on the chair behind him, and crossing his arms over his chest. Though he voiced otherwise, Charon knew that making a trip to Underworld was less likely to happen randomly.
"I'll stay here until you return for me."
Dorrien sighed, not wanting to argue. He walked away, picking up the duffle bag on his bed that was usually carried by Charon, and he handed it over to Butch who stared at it for a long moment before slipping it over his shoulder. Giving another quick glance in Charon's direction, Dorrien and his little band of misfits left the room, Charon murmuring a gruff sound under his breath. He'd never fully admit to being worried – he couldn't bring himself too. But he knew that if Butch allowed Dorrien to come back maimed there would be serious problems. Part of him was tempted to get up and follow after them anyway, but Dorrien wasn't stupid; it would only take a couple of stops before he realized that they were being followed. The few times that they had been snuck up on by raiders and thieves were because Dorrien was distracted by something else, and even then, he noticed that something was off before anything actually hurt them.
"I'm glad you kicked that ghoul to the curb." Butch said suddenly, arms behind his head as he walked.
Dorrien passed him a glance, then a sigh, jabbing at his ribs with his elbow, wondering for a moment if this was really a good idea. He could always turn back around and get Charon, truthfully; he really did want to give Butch a chance though. It might be his feelings creeping up again, but he if learned, so could the Tunnel Snake. Hazel eyes dropped for a moment to make sure that he did, in fact, have his gun holstered. Wouldn't have been too surprising if he didn't.
"I didn't—nevermind," his eyes rolled, not bothering to dwell, "Butch there are some rules for when you're out here with me."
Butch rose a brow, arms falling to his sides. Rules? Last time Butch checked, he was the leader of their gang; it seemed more fitting for him to be making the rules. Then again, Dorrien had been out there longer. The snake would consider this taking advice, rather than actually following someone else's directions. Plus, Dorrien looked so sure of himself – couldn't rip that away from him now. He noticed how he was thinking after a moment and inwardly slapped himself. In the past, it wasn't fully true that he didn't care about the red head's feelings, it was just that he had more things to worry about. He had a reputation to uphold and Dorrien was one of the people he had to step on to get where he wanted to be. No matter how harsh that sounded, for the situation, that was the story Butch was sticking to.
"Like what?"
"If you see someone suspicious or dangerous, wait for me or Dogmeat to go after them first." Dorrien had stopped them, a few ways away from Rivet City, pulling the bag off Butch's back and starting to look through it.
"So, I'm behind a dog now?"
"Yes." Dorrien sounded amused, at least. "If we're travelling, we stop for food sparingly. I don't carry much with me at a time – that's why I try to stop in towns for the night."
Butch cleared his throat, arms crossing over his chest.
"So if I'm hungry, I have to wait until—"
"Yes." Dorrien looked up, smile wry.
"And I'm using your money for food, right?" It only seemed fair.
"Kind of. Any caps I earn will be shared because most likely, you'll be helping me. Charon never needed much, so it wasn't a problem." He pulled a few boxes of ammo from the bag before taking a seat on the ground, a curl of his finger motioning for Butch to sit beside him.
Off his back, he pulled one of the two rifles he had strapped there, handing it over to a too eager looking Tunnel Snake. He reached for the ammo too, but Dorrien quickly slapped his hand away, a wag of his finger making him feel like a mother rather than a friend (of sorts).
"We're not done going over rules, Butch. Wait a second." He lowered his eyes, feeling fur come and brush again his neck, arm coming to wrap around a fluffy torso.
"Come on, Nosebleed, it ain't that difficult. I know what I'm doin' out here." He leaned closer for a moment, brow quirked, fingers playing on the gun in hands.
"I don't want either of us to die, but, you know what, fine. You see that, over there?" Dorrien rose a thin, gloved finger, pointing to a bloatfly, hovering a few yards away, "I want you to shoot it down from here. Once you hit it, I'll stop going over what you need to know."
He handed over the ammo, and watched as Butch, lower lip bitten, tried to find out how to reload. Licking his lips, Dorrien reached over, fingers directing, and pulling Butch's into position without wanting to seem like he was taking lead. Showing was better than telling, he knew from experience, and he'd blush about holding Butch's hand later. Once that was finished, Butch awkwardly picked the gun up, trying to steady himself but surprisingly holding the gun (sort of) properly.
He pulled the trigger, and missed the fly by a long shot – Dorrien hoped that the bullet wouldn't go off and hit something that they should be concerned about. Dorrien did something similar the first time he held a rifle; he taught himself, but ended up shooting an innocent when he was aiming for the super mutant that held them captive. Whoops. The bloatfly didn't even turn to see where the bullet had come from – it merely only shifted to the side as if nothing had happened. Dorrien stifled a giggle, shaking his head. Butch glanced over, sneering, and Dorrien held his hands up in defense.
"You're not allowed to leave my side without telling me where you're going. It's not safe for us to separate" –especially with you being new out here, he wanted to add.
Dorrien and Charon actually separated constantly, but only to an extent. The young wanderer would scout ahead, and Charon would be yards behind him, keeping a distance until they knew it was safe. Roles were switched whenever Dorrien wanted to snipe something, and usually Charon wasn't half-way to their target before a head was blown off and an all too giddy red-head was celebrating from his position. Trying something like that with Butch seemed pointless, either way. Another shot was taken, and of course, another miss, a frustrated sound forming in his throat. Smiling, Dorrien let Dogmeat go and crawled closer to him on his hands and knees, sitting close to trying to help him spot the bloatfly.
"Both of your eyes are open, and you're aiming too far to the right." Reaching over, he shifted the greaser in the right direction, and without being able to help himself, he gently pressed one of his eyes closed with his finger.
Butch didn't seem bothered by the contact actually, which was good enough for him. When the bloatfly stopped moving, the next shot was taken, and it went right through the creature's torso. Dorrien, with a wide smile watched as it fell lifelessly to the ground, and clapped his hands together.
"Fantastic." He turned his eyes back to his companion and helped him fasten the gun to his back. "You'll be shooting at bigger stuff than that, so missing is less likely. I just want you to know how to shoot things from a distance."
Butch smirked, obviously proud of himself, but then he noticed something. Taking a hold of Dorrien's shoulder, he turned him slightly, pressing his fingers to the gun on his back. His brows creased, a hum of confusion in his throat.
"Why is your gun different from mine?"
"Because it's a different gun. It's a sniper rifle, better distance and such. Don't worry, Butch. We're going to be doing very different things in a fire fight. While we're travelling, we're going to completely replace that 10mm - I hardly ever use mine unless it's an emergency. When we head back to Megaton, I'll grab you something from my house."
Once they were back to their feet, the bag was placed back onto his taller follower's back and they began walking again, quickened steps as if Dorrien was in a rush. His breathing was picking up, and he could feel the incoming desire for his Med-X. He couldn't just shoot up front of Butch, especially with no real purpose. If they got into a fight, maybe, but the young wanderer didn't want to go looking for trouble just so that he could delay withdrawal – Butch could get hurt and he'd never forgive himself. His thoughts were like that for a while, not even realizing how far they had walked before—
"Do you even know where you're goin'?"
Dorrien stopped in his tracks for a second or two, looking back at Butch, a trail of sweat running down his cheek and sliding past his collar. All too vividly he could remember a similar occurrence, back in the vault when they were younger:
He was sitting in his room, rereading one of the magazines his father had found for him, when his door was forced open, and a quivering mess of a teenager slid inside and slammed the door behind him, locking it with shaky fingers. Dorrien sat up quickly, startled, eyes wide as Butch pressed a finger too his own lips, sweat running down his face and chest rising and falling from adrenaline.
"What's going on?" He remembered asking.
"Shut up, Nosebleed." And he did as told.
There was a voice – Gomez, probably, couldn't remember now – that was calling after Butch, yelling his name so loudly that Dorrien was convinced that the male before him had murdered someone. When the yelling died down, Butch slumped down to the floor, eying the younger kid with a grin.
"You can leave now." Dorrien spoke, not sounding too sure of himself, but that was with everything.
"Yeah, I'll get out, just give me a second."
He wasn't sure what brought back such a memory – he was fifteen at the time, he was sure, so it wasn't that there was anything significant about that moment between them. Butch was being the troublemaker that he usually was, and Dorrien was his go to when he needed someone that would be too afraid to rat him out. Things probably hadn't changed either. Shame too, Dorrien didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Starting to walk again, he brought his eyes straight, not knowing how to answer the other male's question. He did forget where they were going, and considering that he had been walking mindlessly for quite a bit, he wasn't fully sure where they had found themselves. Honestly, he was surprised they hadn't run into anything deadly.
"Yeah, I know where we're going." He looked up at the sky after speaking, wondering if they would even make it by night fall.
"Yeah, and where's that?"
"Little Lamplight. I have to go there for information, but we might not make it there before it's dark. We'll have to stop for the night somewhere. Don't worry, I'll give you food then."
Butch nodded, though he wasn't too keen on walking this entire time. He looked around, biting his lower lip.
"Where are we now?"
"We're heading towards something called the Super Duper Mart, so we're near Megaton. We're not gonna stop there though. Too far from where we're supposed to be."
"We've been walking for so long, Nosebleed."
Again the red-head stopped, and he sighed, shaking his head. He motioned for the other male to walk a little more, hand grasping at his wrist like he was leading a pet. Butch didn't yank his arm away like he expected. He was still sweating, panting a little – /poor/ baby was red in the face too. Dorrien led the way back to the grocery store. He could hear the greaser groaning listlessly behind him, and he looked back with a frown. He stopped in what used to be the parking lot, taking a seat behind one of the old ruined cars that sat there. Butch sat beside him, and watched as the bag was taken off of his back and a bottle of water was pulled out. Dorrien only carried two with him at a time – there wasn't that much room in the duffle bag, and though Charon never complained about the weight, Butch clearly wasn't as used to this sort of travelling. The bottle was chugged a bit too quickly, and Butch laid down on his back, closing his eyes.
"We'll rest here for a bit, don't worry. I cleared out the grocery store a while ago, so if you need to get out of the sun, let me know."
Shame he looted the whole place over his time out of the vault, because he would definitely grab some food while they were there. There might be some stuff that he missed, but he doubted it. Pulling his glove off with his teeth he reached over, wiping the sweat from the snake's brow, fixing his wilted hair. A pair of eyes opened in response to the contact, and a hand quickly grabbed at the one touching his skin.
"Why are you so touchy?" Butch asked, sounding tired, but the irritation in his voice was still there.
"You've never really done this before. Don't want you to burn out, you know? I mean, I don't hate you." He pouted, but Butch didn't let his hand go, actually, he lowered it back down to his forehead, closing his eyes again.
"I'm not gonna burn out." Butch inhaled deeply. "And I know you don't hate me."
Butch's head was hot against his hand – he wasn't even sure how he had made it from the vault to Rivet City without getting sick. Frowning, he turned to Dogmeat, who was patiently laying down next to him, waiting to move again. He clicked his tongue to get his attention, then craned his head in the direction of the store. As he turned his attention back to Butch as his canine companion ran towards the store, nudging his nose into the slightly cracked door and wiggling inside.
"You're overheating, Butch, I don't want—"
"Shh," Butch opened his eyes again, "you're over reacting. Jeez, I lay down and you think I'm dyin'."
Though there was a laugh in his voice that Dorrien found endearing. There was a shared smile, and the younger male only turned away when her Dogmeat barking for him. He helped Butch to his feet, picking the bag up himself and leading him into the store. In wasn't much cooler inside – air conditioning clearly wasn't something they could expect anymore, but the sun wasn't in their faces, and that made it feel a lot better. Dogmeat rejoined them at the door and they lead Butch to one of the bed rolls that had been left by the raiders that occupied the place beforehand.
"You alright, Butchie?" Dorrien asked, taking a seat next to him, looking around for any water that could be left.
"Did this happen to you when you first started travelling?"
Though it didn't answer his question, Dorrien nodded, fighting the urge to lay down next to the snake and stroke his face, or something else unnecessary.
"Yeah, I got so sick . . . and I was alone. Curled up inside of a burnt out bus until the sun went down, and I slept there. I was lost, I think, and the next day I wandered back to Megaton as fast as I could to get more water and to ask the doctor for advice. He laughed in my face."
Dorrien figured it was not only because of the strain of walking so much, but because of breathing in new air. They weren't used to all this radiation, so nausea was only to be expected. But, this was how one would learn – Dorrien only wished he would have thought of this before bringing Butch out.
"That blows. How long until I stop feelin' like shit?" His voice was low, sleepy, and Dorrien started patting around on his little pockets, but then at realizing what he was actually looking for, he stood.
"Soon, hopefully."
"Where are you goin'?" Butch turned his head, eyes following him, but Dorrien waved his had to try to calm him.
Hopping over one of the counters, he slipped back into the room where he had found some of the medical supplies, ripping boxes and crates off of their stands as he looked to see if there was anything he had missed. He couldn't just give him stimpaks, given that he wasn't injured. Feeling defeated, he turned and, given his lack of attention, walked right into another shelf, hitting his head but knocking one of the crates off the top shelf. It tumbled to the floor and as he rubbed his forehead, he leaned down, pushing aside a burned book and an empty milk bottle, to find one unused bag of Rad-Away, with the needle still on the end of the tube. He hurried himself back to his companion, assuming that he would have fallen asleep, but finding him instead petting the dog who had curled up again his side.
"Ba—Butch, I need your arm," He shook his head at his near slip grabbing an arm before the Tunnel Snake could respond.
"Why, what are you gonna do?" He turned to face him, watching as he pushed his sleeve back, rolling it up until he was at his veins.
"Try to make you feel better. This might pinch; don't hit me, yeah?" He gently pressed the needle into his arm, right over where he saw a vein.
He was no doctor, despite his father's occupation, he didn't know everything. Butch winced, but settled soon after, watching as a still gloveless hand milked the contents of the bag into his arm. He never saw Dorrien put it back on, and he was hoping that he didn't leave it outside.
"Thanks, you know?" Butch said with a sigh, eyes turning to the ceiling.
The same hand came to rest on his forehead again, feeling the heat starting to decrease.
"You don't have to thank me, Butch."
"Yeah, I do. If I was in your shoes, I wouldn't be helpin' me right now." For a second, he sounded angry, and the startled the younger male for a second.
"What are you talking about? I think your brain is fried, just calm down."
"Dorrien, with how I used to treat you, I'm surprised you're even talkin' to me right now. I made your life hell."
Dorrien's lips quirked, frowning for a moment before he averted his eyes. It was true, he couldn't deny it, so he settled for saying nothing at all instead. But, he still felt something for Butch, despite himself, and he wasn't sure of that changing any time soon. Honestly, he blamed it on there being only a small amount of guys his age being around anyway – had he been on the outside . . . well, he probably still would have liked Butch.
"Butch, we were kids—"
"Stop makin' excuses for me." He rose his voice a tad, eyes a little lidded, but he was awake enough. "I shouldn't have done all that shit to you. I deserve whatever shit's happenin' to me, but you try to fix me anyway."
"How are you feeling?" Dorrien jumped in, trying to shut him up; he could feel his heart constricting in his chest, the blush staining his cheeks apparent, but he figured that Butch was too delirious to see it.
"Tired, but better." He said, even toned, eyes closing.
Dorrien sighed, and Butch was silent, breathing going even. It was only a matter of moments before he was asleep. Leaning closer, he pressed his lips to Butch's forehead, a chaste gesture that he was almost certain he couldn't feel in his sleepy haze. Dogmeat nestled closer to the sleeping form, and Dorrien stood, turning and walking back outside. He found his glove next to the car where he had left it, eyes to the sky he leaned his back against the car, crossing one leg over the other.
"Damn it, Butch." He mumbled, kicking a rock away from himself, heart pounding in his chest.
See, he knew this would happen too. He'd take Butch with him and then get distracted by his feelings or something else stupid. Sighing, he stood up straight and walked himself back to the mart, finding his companions still where he left them. The glove was slid back onto his hand, and he took a seat next to Butch, watching the way his chest expanded when he breathed. Reaching back into his bag, he pulled out a Med-X, preparing to inject himself, but Butch shifted closer, head resting against his lap before he settled.
"You would . . ." He whispered, hands dropping and a shake of his head given.
With a weary breath exhaled, he returned the Med-X to the bag and set it aside, taking the time to check Butch's stats on his pip-boy. The Rad-Away bag was empty, and the boy on his screen was smiling again, everything seeming to be perfect. He didn't want to pry too much what he had in his pip-boy, he sat his arm back down, brushing his fingers over the back of his hand in the process. The needle and tube was then pulled from the sleeping snake's arm, sleeve even rolled back down while Dorrien was in a nice mood. Not wanting to dwell on his feelings anymore, he laid down too, curling as much as he could with Butch's head resting against his thighs. His eyes closed, a short whimper of a sound leaving his lips before he allowed himself to doze off as well.
Butch shifted listlessly for a moment before he woke back up, an hour or so after he had fallen asleep in the first place, head against a warm surface that he couldn't remember feeling in the first place. Yawning, he sat up, looking around them then down to see what he was laying on. Dogmeat was awake beside him, tail wagging slowly and eyes on him, and Dorrien was sleeping. His head was on his legs, apparently, and though confused, he wasn't too surprised. He remembered what occurred before his nap, and felt better, of course, but wasn't sure if he should wake the younger male so that they could keep walking. They did have a long way to go, and Butch did remember him talking about them sleeping outside. Sighing, he checked the time on his pip-boy, seeing that it was getting late, and he gently shook the smaller male with his hand.
"Hey, Nosebleed, wake up." Butch leaned in close, nudging his cheek with his hand.
Hazel eyes blinked open, a soft sound of displease before the small form sat up and stretched out, yawning.
"Hey, how long were we out?" He sounded sleepy still, but stood up anyway, hoisting the bag back on his shoulders.
"I think an hour or two." Butch stood up behind him, Dogmeat following behind.
Dorrien wasn't too happy with the answer apparently, a frown pulling his lips before he turned and headed towards the door, peaking out and seeing that it was dark. There was the smallest bit of light that he could see over the top of the building – the sun must have still been setting behind one of the hills. He bit his lip, turning to give Butch a look over, glove pulled off again and hand to his head.
"Do you think you're all right? I want to see how far we can get before we're out of light."
Butch nodded, even going as far as taking the bag back from Dorrien and placing it back onto his back, walking out of the store and hoping that his companion would get the hint and go on with his plans. With a small smile, the red-head came behind him, taking lead again and heading past the store, pace quick again, but he was looking around more. It did seem a lot more unsafe to travel at night; anything could sneak up behind someone, and once you're caught off guard, if you weren't prepared, you were done.
"When did you fall asleep?" Butch asked, not liking how quiet their trip was.
"Uh, not too long after you did." He glanced over his shoulder at him for a moment, before turning his attention back to where they were going.
They passed Vault 101, Butch stopping for a moment before he shook his head and laughed. Dorrien instead ignored it, knowing that dwelling on that place would leave him needing another fix, and though he hadn't allowed himself to take any Med-X in the past twenty-four hours, he didn't want to do anything that Butch would notice. Maybe the next time they stopped in a town he would do it; Butch wouldn't have been paying too much attention there, he was sure.
"Raiders ahead." Dorrien stopped, debating on trying to go around them, but he was sure that if they tried that there would be something more dangerous around the bend.
Plus, he was sure that Butch could handle a few raiders, they weren't that hard, and from the distance, Dorrien couldn't see any missile launchers. Pulling his laser rifle from its holster, he turned to Butch and placed his free hand to his shoulder.
"Keep a distance alright, and try not to shoot me. Pick them off while I get close and if you need any help call me, alright. I only see five of them, so we should be fine."
Butch nodded, the grin on his lips just making the wanderer more nervous. Not wanting to worry too much, he ran ahead, a quick shot at the leg of the first raider he past just to give Butch something to shoot at. Crippling a leg was easy; from his time, he had learned just where to shoot to make someone's limps completely useless in battle, and that kept him alive many, many times. Gun held straight, he shot once, then twice, head taken right off the shoulders of a scanty clad female with a pistol, not even allowing her the chance to fire back. He smiled to himself, turning his attention to the male that was beside her, stepping closer and going to do the same to him, but a bullet whizzed past his face and caught him right in the neck, and the raider fell gracelessly on top of the female before him. Dorrien turned, seeing a very proud Butch, cheering to himself, the raider he had left for him bleeding out from the leg.
"Good job," Dorrien praised, turning back to the last raider who was running off.
Dogmeat chased the man down, tearing into his neck no sooner than he had tackled him to the ground. Butch caught up behind Dorrien and strapped his gun back to his back, breathing quick and pupils dilated.
"I could have taken 'em by myself," he teased, and Dorrien smiled, placing his own gun back where it belonged.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Butch."
Dogmeat rejoined them as they started walking again, and it wasn't long before Dorrien decided to stop, finding a nice empty spot between a good amount of trees. They sat, Butch's eyes at the sky for a moment before returning the male beside him.
"It looks nice out here at night." Voice low, he laid back down, arms under his head.
"Yeah, that's the one good thing about being out here at night. So many stars." He scooted back to rest against a tree, crossing one leg over the other.
The dog laid down, head on the wanderer's leg. A gloved hand easily found his head and brushed there until the canine fell asleep.
"I'm not tired, you know."
"Good, if Dogmeat is sleeping, we can't. Someone has to keep watch. I'll stay up with you though, don't worry."
Butch turned his head, staring at the other male for a long moment, before he smirked, chucking under his breath.
"You're really different." Butch said after a moment, turning over onto his side to face him.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, you're just—" he shook his head, not knowing the right words, and not feeling like thinking too hard.
"Is that a compliment?" Fingers nervously ran through red hair, not sure where the other male was going with this.
"Yeah, I guess. I don't see anything bad about you now."
"You're silly."
Butch sat up a little, inching himself closer to Dorrien's side.
"No, I'm not. I couldn't see you doing any of this stuff in the vault."
For a long moment, Dorrien was quiet, looking Butch over before he smiled.
"Tell me about what you think changed."