Shell Shocked

All thought ceased inside Quinn's head, Danse's lips against hers the only thing she could focus on. When they broke apart, he seemed dazed, blinking at her like a bright light was shining in his eyes. Then Danse's brow creased, his intense expression sending a thrill of excitement through her.

He leaned in again, harder this time, and Quinn met him eagerly. Her hand slid up his neck, running through Danse's hair, fisting it through her fingers. He mirrored her, and she felt a slight jolt as her back hit the wall.

Suddenly, he pulled away, and Quinn knew to let go.

Danse staggered from her, his breath releasing in sharp pants, his eyes locked onto hers. His whole posture screamed of fight or flight, and in that moment, she was sure he would run.

Quinn waited.

To her great surprise, he did not run, but clenched and unclenched his fists, taking deep breaths that tremored through his entire body. He held the air of a man barely keeping himself together, and Quinn knew if she tried to help, he'd only crumble.

Eventually, Danse said, "This doesn't make any sense." He shook his head. "After everything the Brotherhood taught you, how could you have feelings for...well, a machine?"

His incredulous tone was not lost on her. Quinn started to take a step toward him, but stopped as he immediately tensed. Instead, she stood on the spot, twisting her fingers together. "You're not a m—"

"Don't play semantics with me, Quinn," Danse interrupted, glaring at her. "I was made. Programmed. And then sent away." His eyes dropped to the floor. "Just a machine."

"If you were just a machine, would we even be having this conversation?" Quinn snapped. She wasn't sure where her ire was coming from. It certainly wasn't directed at him. But just the very idea that anyone could think Danse was 'just a machine'—including himself—aggravated something deep within her.

"I...I don't know." Danse sighed, still staring at his feet. "I'm not certain what the Institute embedded into my brain to handle things like this." He paused, and then continued with an edge of bitter mirth, "If I was human, wouldn't this be a hell of a lot easier?"

Quinn rubbed her forehead. "After the amount of trouble we went through to tell each other how we felt, you think other humans would find this easier?"

Danse's head jerked up and he frowned at her. "But I'm not—"

"You are human, Danse. I don't care what you say, you are. You're more human than most people could ever hope to be. The only difference between you and me is a few extra components in your head to do all the organic programming the Institute can't quite replicate yet."

"What do you mean...organic programming?"

Quinn shrugged. "Exactly what it says on the tin."

"The tin?"

She rolled her eyes, grinning despite the serious situation. "Pre-war saying. What I mean is, we're all programmed in some shape or form. Non-synths...we're just 'programmed' over a longer period of time by the people we meet and the things that happen to us. That's why humans change as they get older. The fact the Institute did the initial programming for you doesn't mean shit. You aren't the same person they made. You aren't even the same person I met at the police station. You've changed in the time I've known you." Quinn shrugged. "So have I."

"But then the Brotherhood has taught you…"

"You know damn well my interpretation of the Brotherhood's rules has always been loose at best. And try as they might, there are some things they can never change. How I feel about synths...and how I feel about you."

Danse looked as if he didn't know what to do with this information.

Quinn studied him for a second and then smiled, though her heart sank. "If you're not ready for this, or you don't want it, then that's fine. I'm sorry for pushing you into—"

No." Danse looked very serious again. He stepped forward and took hold of her hands, and then blinked, his cheeks flushing. But he stayed where he was and squeezed her fingers regardless. "You didn't push me into anything. I wanted…"

Danse sighed and bowed his head for a moment, and glanced up at her again.

"Look...I'm not going to lie to you. You're going to have to be patient with me. Coming to terms with these...well, human feelings is going to be a very difficult journey. But if we can tackle those obstacles together, I think that this relationship could last a very long time."

He hesitated, his face now scarlet, and then quickly added, "I mean, if you want—"

His words were cut off as Quinn raised his hand and kissed his fingers, giving him a nod. He looked surprised, but also pleased. Then she stepped forward and hugged him, burying her face into his chest.

'Human feelings.'

Quinn decided not to challenge him. Whatever he was working through, it was more than she could ever comprehend. So long as she was there to support him, that was all that mattered.

Danse's voice broke her deep thought.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but...that...um...that means yes?"

Quinn burst out laughing. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and saw traces of embarrassment in his face. Yet still he waited for an answer.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "That was my way of saying yes."

"Is giving a verbal answer a lost art?" Danse grumbled, but he his delight was obvious. They stared at each other for what felt like an age; she couldn't quite believe what was happening. Her heart was racing, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation.

Finally, in an attempt to break the silence, Quinn tore her gaze away from him and directed it to his armour in the corner.

"So...you don't mind that I had to wear it, then?" She turned back to him, and Danse slowly let go of her.

"No, I don't mind," Danse said, rolling his eyes. "I thought that was perfectly obvious."

"Is giving a verbal answer a lost art?" Quinn mimicked, deepening her voice and pulling an exaggerated scowl. He tugged her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I never thought I would see it again," he mumbled into her hair, his grip suddenly tight. "That you brought it back..."

His voice trailed away, and they stood in silence again, Quinn basking in the warmth of Danse's embrace. How she had missed this.

Eventually, she said, "There's more, y'know."

Danse glanced down at her. "More?"

He sounded so hopeful, Quinn felt her chest tighten. She had lost the tags and the book. Still, she stepped out of the hug and forced a smile. "I couldn't get everything, but...well, come and see."

Eyes lit with curiosity, Danse followed Quinn across the room to his armour, and watched as she carefully removed the bundle she had stowed away inside. She set it on the floor, and they sat next to each other while she unwrapped the parcel.

As Quinn expected, brutal disappointment crossed his face when Danse realised the tags and the book were missing. The pain turned hollow as she explained Maxson's actions, and he simply nodded and didn't ask any questions.

The rest of the items, however, Danse pawed over with great interest, the first of which was the old shot glass with a chip in the rim. Again, he said nothing, simply holding it cupped in his hands the way a child might hold a small, delicate animal, staring intently at it. Then he set it down with the utmost of care and turned his attention to the gun that had been on his desk in the Prydwen. Danse smiled and picked it up, turning it over and observing it under the lights of the bunker, rubbing away a smear of oil from the barrel with his thumb.

The rifle she had made him was amongst the collection, and he showed particular relief in seeing it again. Danse checked over every inch of it to make sure it wasn't damaged, and then gave her a grateful look.

Quinn smiled. According to the scribes who worked in the armour shop, Danse had left the weapon by his armour when he'd first arrived back on the Prydwen, and hadn't returned to collect it. It had ended up cleared away into one of the many crates in the workshop, and had taken her hours to locate the damn thing. No one had questioned her when she had claimed the gun as her own. After all, everything that had been Danse's now belonged to her.

Danse went through the other articles in front of him without comment, even tracing the frayed edges of his Brotherhood flag on which everything was laid, before finally picking up the last item. Danse frowned.

"Selected Poems of the World Wars," he read aloud, and then shot Quinn a confused look. "Where did you find this? This...this isn't mine."

"I know." Quinn fidgeted, staring at her knees. "After I...your book. When I couldn't bring back your book...I spoke to Stephen Cooper and he gave me one of the spare books from the Brotherhood archives. They had multiple copies of that, so I was allowed to keep it…" She shrugged. "It was my fault I lost your two most important possessions. So I wanted to give you something to make up for that, I guess. I know it's not as good as—"

Her words were cut as Danse set down the book and hugged her.

"Thank you," he said, holding her tight. When he let go, she saw he was smiling.

"I'm sorry that I—" she tried again.

"Thank you," Danse repeated, more pointedly this time. Quinn hesitated, confused.

"But I—"

"Quinn." His eyes trailed over the collection of trinkets she had brought him, a magpie's hoard for the world-weary soldier, and picked up her book. "You've given me a gift, something with thought behind it. Something with so much history in its pages, with so many things I know I'll understand." Danse placed the book down next to the shot glass, and took hold of her hand, squeezing it.

Quinn stared at their hands and then back at Danse. He looked apprehensive, as if worried he'd gone too far. Licking her lips, she shuffled forward and leaned toward him. Danse blinked at her, before realising what she was doing, and with only the slightest of awkward pauses, he reciprocated.

This kiss was less smooth, more bumping of noses and a miss of their mouths. Quinn giggled and pushed herself up onto her knees, meeting him properly, and soon all nerves were forgotten.

Danse stared up at the ceiling wondering—no, dreading—when he was going to wake up. A cliché, perhaps, but still true. The happiness throbbing in his chest wasn't real. The woman in his arms wasn't there. When he woke up, they would be gone. This couldn't have happened to him. A machine didn't deserve this kind of luck.

After a few gentle kisses—well, more than a few—Danse had eventually returned to tweaking his new power armour, with Quinn helping him. But try as he might, he hadn't been able to concentrate, his attention drifting back to her so often he hammered three large, separate dents into the casing of his chest plate. She had laughed that typical cheerful laugh, the one she reserved for when he did something stupid, and suggested he go to bed.

That in itself had presented a problem. The two salvaged single beds were side by side, close, but not touching. Quinn had shot a mischievous grin and asked if she could join him.

The obvious answer was yes, but the question took him by such surprise that he fumbled his words into an agonising silence. Quinn had looked worried. This was new territory for both of them, darting around barriers and limits like soldiers picking through the No Man's Land of France, but for Danse, actions were always easier than words. He had strode across the room and pushed the two beds together, hoping she would understand his intent.

She had.

Now he was lying with Quinn against his chest, unable to stop looking at her.

This was real. She was real. And she wasn't repulsed by him, wasn't bothered that he wasn't a proper person. Quinn wanted him regardless. Danse couldn't understand it, but he wasn't about to question it either. He only prayed she wouldn't come to her senses later down the line.

Danse sighed. So, he had been reduced to this: hoping Quinn didn't use her better judgement.

If she hadn't been splayed out on top of him, fast asleep, he would have moved away from her. The happiness he had been feeling all evening was slowly draining away, clearing his head as anxiety and doubts took its place. Danse gritted his teeth, shifting slightly on the bed. All he wanted was just one day of peace. One day of not over-thinking or worrying. One day of just enjoying—

Quinn jerked awake so sharply she made him jump. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and Danse propped himself up, frowning.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"Yeah," Quinn said sleepily, flopping back down so recklessly she nearly headbutted his nose. She looked up at him, and without warning, kissed him. As she broke away, she mumbled, "You're here. Everything is perfect."

Then a second later, she was asleep again.

Danse blinked at her and carefully lowered himself down onto his back, making sure not to disturb her again. All at once, his worries seemed trivial. He studied her face and smiled.

Quinn was here. Everything was perfect.

Danse wasn't sure when he drifted off to sleep, but the nightmares greeted him as he slipped from consciousness. The same tired events played out in his head, familiar faces...familiar ghosts. Cold disapproval from Krieg. Cutler's last moments in fine detail.

He woke with a gasp, his body shuddering, and clamped his arms down around something warm and firm, clutching at fabric beneath his trembling fingers.

"Hey…" said a voice.

A sharp intake of breath marked his place in reality. He was awake, and Quinn…

Danse turned his head and saw he had pinned her to his chest. She looked up at him, and the moment he released her, she propped herself up and shifted herself closer to him. He turned on his side and tried to speak, to apologise for holding her too tight, when she touched his face.

"Hey…" she said again gently. Quinn caressed his face with one hand, the other using the cuff of her sleeve to dab at the sweat on his face. "It's over. I'm here." She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and lay down beside him, her thumb slowly tracing circles on his jaw. "I'm here."

Normally her touch would calm him down, but he could feel something twisting within him, and realised he was slipping back. Danse placed his hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her skin, and then moved her so that her fingers pressed against his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, the tremors rippling through him again, and knew he was about to experience hell.

Quinn grabbed the back of his clothes, tugging him toward her, and Danse obeyed. He buried himself into her body, his hands grasping at her as the aftermath came. The panic. The flashbacks. The unending string of painful memories.

Only they did end. And when he returned from the past, Quinn was still there, holding him tight.

His body settled, and slowly Quinn let go, smoothing back his hair, frowning. Then she stood up from the bed and walked away without another word.

Danse laid on his back and covered his eyes with the crook of his arm, sighing. Now he'd done it. Things were supposed to be happy. Things were supposed to be better. All he'd managed to prove was that he'd always be a broken mess. Clattering in the other parts of the bunker confirmed his fears. She was leaving.

At least I had one night by her side. At least I had the chance to kiss her.

But then footsteps sounded as Quinn approached him. Danse didn't dare look at her. She dropped something on the bed with a muted thud, and then walked around to him, crouching down and sweeping back his hair again.

"Are you awake?" she asked.

Danse gave a slow nod.

"Can you sit up?"

He paused, confused. That didn't sound like a question she would ask if she was about to go.

Without waiting for him to answer, Quinn grabbed his arms and began tugging at him, urging him to move. "Come on. Sit up."

Too bewildered to resist, Danse did as he was told, his arm falling to his side as he moved. Quinn helped him up, leaning over and grabbing one of the pillows she had taken from another part of the room, and wedged it behind him. A blanket followed, which she tucked deftly around his body, leaving his arms free. Then she made her way back around her side and climbed onto the bed, producing a bottle of water. She unscrewed the lid and passed it over, sitting crossed legged next to him while he drank.

Danse didn't know what to think. He finished his water, his thoughts muddled, half enjoying being fussed over, half wary of it. Did she think he wasn't capable of looking after himself?

"How are you feeling?" Quinn asked, taking the empty bottle and throwing it over her shoulder without looking.

He considered the question, and after a moment replied, "Better." And to his surprise, this was the absolute truth. He did feel better.

She smiled at him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"I...um…" His face felt hot again, but images of that quiet hour before he had fallen asleep were surfacing in his mind. Selfish thoughts, but something he was desperate for. "I...I feel like being...close to you right now."

Her smile widened. "Good answer."

Quinn lifted the blanket and slipped under it, next to him. He put his arm around her, pulling her near, astounded by how natural the whole thing felt.

Danse tilted his head, staring down at her, while she gazed back up at him, and a staggering realisation hit him. He finally accepted it, finally accepted what she had been trying to tell him for months.

Quinn wasn't going anywhere.

By the time morning arrived, Quinn still wasn't going anywhere. She clung to him, nuzzling into his neck and pressing soft kisses on his collarbone whenever he made a half-hearted attempt to get up.

Danse didn't mind. He was quite content to lie there, tangled in blankets, Quinn's body draped across his own. His hand played lazily with her hair, and occasionally he pretended to be annoyed that she was keeping him in the bed, which only made her giggle. It was a sound he craved, sweet and light and everything he adored.

"I suppose I better move," Quinn said after a while, her voice muffled by his clothes.

"I suppose you better," Danse responded, and as she gave him a worried glance, he pulled her up toward him and kissed her.

He wasn't sure where that bold move had come from, but Danse decided not to dwell on it for the time being. Whatever was happening to him, he liked it. He couldn't get enough of her. The feel of her. The taste of her. Quinn's lips against his was the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced, and yet he didn't know why. Maybe that was the point.

This continued for some time, neither of them able to settle down long enough to let go of each other. Only when Danse's leg went numb from Quinn's weight did he realise how long they'd been there.

"Breakfast, I think," said Quinn, groaning as she got to her feet and stretched. She glanced at her Pip-Boy and grinned. "Or maybe lunch instead."

Danse watched her while she pottered about the boxes of food they'd salvaged from the bunker's stores, pulling out preserved tins and setting them out on the defunct consoles. He barely listened as she suggested they head down to Diamond City today, because she wanted to speak to the detective.

Slowly, Danse stood up and walked over to her, slipping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. Quinn stopped what she was doing and leaned back into him, before turning around and meeting him properly.

All of a sudden, it occurred to him that he kept interrupting her and dragging her attention back to him, like some sort of needy teenager. Feeling embarrassed, he pulled away. "Sorry. I'll stop pester—"

Quinn silenced him with another kiss. "You're not pestering me. This is long overdue."

"I...uh…" He gave her a nervous smile. "I won't argue with that."

"Arguing with me is pointless."

Danse laughed. "Don't I know it."

A few more hours passed before Quinn and Danse left the bunker to head over to Diamond City. They probably could have gone sooner, but for one reason or another, they had been...delayed.

However, the warm glow Quinn held within her had been somewhat disturbed since they had left the bunker. The niggling doubts she'd had about how Danse was handling his exile from the Brotherhood were starting to accumulate.

Her first worry had been when they had made the initial assault on 35 Court, and a vertibird had flown over. He hadn't so much as flinched, completely unconcerned by Brotherhood presence being so close to them. The next had been when he'd spoken of his armour in the Goodneighbor Hotel.

"The Brotherhood doesn't waste resources. That armour will be given to someone else. My replacement. Or repainted and issued to one of our new recruits."

'Our' new recruits.

Still, Quinn had hoped he was just putting on a brave face, and even when he'd introduced himself as 'Paladin Danse' to MacCready, she thought he was just having difficulty letting go of his old habits.

Now Quinn wasn't so sure.

He had been oddly cheerful ever since they had left the bunker, opting to travel in his Brotherhood armour and his old laser rifle, despite Quinn pointing out that someone other than herself in paladin armour looked suspicious. Danse had laughed it off. She couldn't see his face, but by the tone of his voice, she suspected he was grinning.

Finally, when they reached an old truck stop and decided to give it a quick look over, Quinn began to feel downright uncomfortable. As she unearthed a selection of scrap, Danse chimed in with, "We should keep hold of that. The Brotherhood could use it."

She rubbed the back of her neck, wondering if she was just being paranoid. Maybe he meant for her to take it back to the Brotherhood, but just wasn't choosing his words properly. But then there was the use of 'we,' including himself in the circle that he had been exiled from.

Quinn decided to hold her tongue. Whatever was going through his head right now, Danse seemed happy. She didn't want to spoil that. Instead, she distracted herself by throwing glances at him when she was sure he wasn't looking. She couldn't see his face behind his helmet, but it didn't matter. He was there, and they had kissed.

Quinn felt giddy at the memory. And the way it had happened...she had never expected Danse to take the first step like that. The thought alone of the look on his face when he'd walked towards her was enough to make her shiver with excitement.

She must have made a noise without realising, because Danse turned to look at her.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," said Quinn, giving him a sly look. "Just thinking about kissing you. That's all."

"I...uh…" Danse coughed. "Um…"

A beat of silence.

"Me too."

"Plenty of time for it when we get to Diamond City then," Quinn said, grinning at the thought of him getting flustered behind his helmet. "Hopefully Piper won't mind us crashing at her place."

"Piper's?" Danse stopped dead in the street.

"Yeah." Quinn frowned at him. "Is there a problem?"

"Just…" He shifted on the spot. "I'm not…I don't know if…"

A few moments passed before she realised what he was getting at. "You don't want Piper to know we're together?"

Together. How strange that sounded.

Danse nodded. "I just…if we go there, she'll know."

"So?"

Her response caught him off-guard. He stared at her for a few seconds, lost for words, and then tried again. "Please, Quinn. I'm not ready for…" He stopped, his fingers tapping nervously on his rifle.

Quinn considered him for a moment and then smiled. "We need to stay somewhere tonight, but if it bothers you that much, how about this? We'll go to Piper's, but we'll act like we normally do. Like we're just friends. Okay?"

"That's not my preference," Danse said slowly, "but for one night, I can...tolerate it."

"Can't win 'em all, Danse."

"But they'll know."

"So?"

Nate glanced down at his wife, chewing his lip. She looked back up at him, an eyebrow raised. He was half tempted to give a sarcastic response, but he bit it back and sighed, staring at the wall opposite him instead. It was one thing for Quinn to know about his troubles, but total strangers?

It had all started with a letter in the mail.

Letters never arrived for him in the mail anymore. Who did he have to talk to? His friends were dead or still on tour, and the living had more important things to think about than a broken soldier they used to know.

He'd left it on the side by the fridge, deciding ignorance was better than acknowledgement. Even when Quinn had pointed it out to him, he'd skirted around the subject, saying he'd read it later.

Nate wasn't sure why he thought that would work.

Quinn had presented it at dinner, after Shaun had been put to bed, while she was serving out the vegetables. She'd smiled her knowing smile, and then sat with him at the table, waiting. Nate had slowly worked his way through his meal, making idle chatter and looking anywhere but Quinn and the letter, until eventually he had to admit defeat.

The envelope was light and smooth, sealed with tape, crisp and clean. Nate turned it over in his hands several times, and then opened it.

An invitation.

"It'll do you good," Quinn said, bringing him back to her with a bump. She pulled the bed sheets up a little higher and snuggled into his chest, trailing a finger slowly against his skin. "You've been making such great progress. The doctor said so. You could help other people."

"I don't want to help other people," Nate replied, scowling.

Christ, that sounded awful.

"Sorry, I just…" He kneaded his forehead with his free hand. "I want to focus on getting better, not putting out my worst nightmares for reporters and philanthropists to lap up at some veterans event."

Quinn sat up and kissed his cheek.

"It's fine." She kissed him again. "You aren't here for the benefit of other people. But if you want to do it, I'm sure your experiences could help soldiers who are hiding their condition. Let them know they're not alone, and that they can talk about it. And let everyone else know what is happening to the people who fight for them. That's all."

Nate kissed the top of her head as she settled down into his arms again, his stomach tight, his heart racing.

"I'll think about it," he said. And he meant it.

Quinn was jolted awake as Danse's arms clamped tight around her. She could feel him shuddering, his breath hard against the back of her neck. She stroked his knuckles until he loosened his hold on her, and then turned around, peppering soft kisses on his face. Danse closed his eyes, running a hand through her hair as he calmed himself, and then opened them again, looking tired.

"I keep waking you," he said, his voice little more than a croak.

"Well then, at least I have a handsome face to greet me," Quinn replied, and smirked as she felt his cheeks grow hot beneath her fingers. She kissed his nose. "Try to go back to sleep."

Danse nodded and laid back down, and Quinn turned over, pressing her back against his chest as his arm draped lazily over her.

He fell asleep within minutes, his breathing becoming heavy and slow, and Quinn couldn't help but be pleased. Even with his nightmares, Danse was willing to go back to sleep these days. She didn't care what the reason was anymore; the result was the same.

Quinn herself was now wide awake, though. The sofa in Piper's house wasn't the most comfortable place, but Quinn would be damned before she passed up the chance to be close to Danse. It had taken some convincing to get him there, though. He had kept his distance from her while Piper had been with them, and even after Piper had gone to bed, he'd had his reservations about sharing the sofa.

He'd relented on the condition of being woken up before Piper came downstairs, and had still jumped every time Piper had rolled over in her sleep. Quinn didn't know why he was so worried about her friends—no, their friends—knowing, but she was willing to leave it for the time being. Compared to everything else going on, it was a non-issue.

As she lay with Danse, Nate slowly drifted back into her thoughts. The old, familiar guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. She'd dreamed about him again, for the first time since Goodneighbor. And it was nothing horrible, nothing evil. Just them, in sweet mediocrity. Would Danse be upset to know she still missed him? Would Nate be hurt that she'd found someone else?

Quinn let the questions scratch at her skull for a few seconds, before quashing them. Of course Danse wouldn't be upset. He would understand, the way he always had. He would be patient, would ask if he could help, respect her if she needed space.

And Nate...there was no point torturing herself with how he 'might' feel if he could see her now. He was dead. He couldn't hurt. He couldn't do anything. He was never coming back. He'd loved her and Shaun more than himself. He had only ever wanted her to be happy.

And she was happy.

Something tickled Quinn's cheeks, and she realised there were tears sliding down them. Trembling slightly, she tugged Danse's arm up and clutched at it like a child holding a teddy bear, trying to cry quietly. He made a slight grumbling noise, half-asleep, and then pulled her close, clumsily kissing the back of her head. A few moments later, he was snoring into her hair.

Despite herself, Quinn giggled.

It was going to be alright. She was going to be alright.

"So, wait, you guys escaped a deathclaw?" Piper asked through a mouthful of cake.

She and Danse had been swapping stories for the last hour while Quinn ran a few errands around Diamond City. The story of the first deathclaw he had 'fought' with Quinn had Piper entranced.

"Uh," said Danse, watching as Piper swallowed her food, before sticking her hand straight back into the box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes on her lap. She pulled one out, unwrapped it, and ate it whole, chewing loudly as she watched him with rapt attention. How the woman could fit that much cake in her mouth at once was beyond him.

"Well," he tried again, doing everything he could not to be distracted by Piper's phenomenal snack intake, "we just got out of its line of sight and crept into the training ground building. It did follow us inside eventually, and we had to block its way with a magnetic gate, but initially stealth was what saved us."

"But you're so...clanky." Piper peered into the box and pulled out a small, ugly toy in the shape of a cat with an oversized head. Danse thought it looked like it had a head tumour. She set it down on the table next to an entire army of the appalling things, and shoved her hand back into the box. Seconds later, she was talking through cake again. "Why didn't it hear you?"

"I can be quiet when necessary," Danse replied, somewhat offended at being called 'clanky.' He paused and then added, "And its hearing might have been affected by the exploding car that landed on it thanks to Quinn's grenades."

"Knew it," Piper said, grinning. She stared at him, her eyes taking on a mischievous gleam that Danse didn't like. He sensed she was tired of stories and had other topics in mind. "Glad you two could visit, at any rate. So you finally took the plunge and asked her out?"

"What?" Danse could feel his face getting hot. "No, we're not—I'm just—I didn't—"

"Calm down, soldier boy," Piper said, setting down the cake box and stretching out in her chair. "You've gone from barely contained sexual tension to deliberately keeping apart. Either you're annoyed at each other or…"

His face was now burning like a fire. Danse hung his head.

"Hey, you okay?" He heard Piper sit up in her chair. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just think it's cute, that's all."

He risked a glance up and saw she was watching him with concern.

"I'm fine." Danse gave a little shrug, trying to pretend he wasn't bothered, though his molten face said otherwise. "Just...I don't like talking about myself." He dropped his eyes to the floor again. "But...yes. You're right. I suppose there's no point hiding it if we're that obvious."

"You're good for each other, Danse."

Danse stole another look at Piper and saw she was smiling. After making sure she wasn't laughing at him, he gave a small smile back.

Piper beamed and then stood up, dusting cake crumbs off herself. "Anyway, you're gonna have to share Blue with me today. She's promised me a girly trip around town, and I'm a sucker for that."

Piper gave him a wink and then walked upstairs, clattering loudly around her bed. Danse listened for a while and then leaned over, picking up her discarded box of snack cakes. He glanced up, making sure she wasn't coming back down, and then over to the door. Quinn still hadn't returned.

Danse stuck his arm inside the box, and pulled a Fancy Lad Snack Cake out, frowning. This one was missing its plastic wrapping, and yet he craved it all the same. He hadn't been this tempted by something since he had given up drinking. Hesitating only for a moment, Danse shoved it whole inside his mouth.

He chewed quickly, but whatever abilities Piper had that allowed her to eat an ungodly level of food all at once, he did not possess. Almost immediately, Danse began to choke, and nearly spat soggy cake all down himself as he dropped the box, ran into the kitchen, and grabbed the nearest bottle of water.

"Everything alright?" Piper called from upstairs.

"Fine!" Danse wheezed, forcing the rest of the cake down between precious gulps of water.

Piper hurried downstairs and stopped dead in the centre of the room, eyeing the damning evidence of split snack cakes all over the floor and the water he'd sloshed down his front. There was a few beats of silence, and then she burst out into hysterical laughter.

She was still laughing when Quinn returned, and gasped out an explanation, while Danse scowled at her from the kitchen, the empty bottle still clutched in his hands. Soon Quinn was laughing too, but when she saw the glare on his face, she walked over, grinning.

"Piper knows," Danse said, in an effort to change the subject.

"Oh?" Quinn turned to Piper, who shrugged.

"You're both kinda obvious, Blue."

"Well then." Quinn looked back at Danse. "That means I can do this."

Without warning, she hugged him, and some of his annoyance disappeared.

"Sorry for laughing at you," she said, a smirk still playing on her lips.

"It's fine," he huffed, and when she hugged him again, the irritation left completely. As they broke apart, he spied Piper picking up the cakes and shoving them straight back into the box. A nasty suspicion that the snack cake he'd just eaten wasn't exactly clean crept up on him, but before he could dwell on it, Piper spoke.

"So, what's the plan today, Blue? We bringing Danse shopping with us?"

Quinn suddenly looked apprehensive, and she shot him a nervous look. "Can I speak with Danse alone a moment, please?"

Piper frowned as she scooped up the last of the wayward cakes, and set the box on the table next to her ugly toys. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just...please."

Piper nodded, looking concerned, but left the house without comment.

Quinn turned back to Danse, and he couldn't help but note how pale she'd gone. He touched her cheek, a knot of worry in his stomach, and waited for her to talk. But it soon twisted into anger as she dropped her bombshell.

"Danse...I've set you up a meeting with Nick Valentine. You guys need to talk."

A/N: Who else hates the fact Danse continues to talk like he's still in the Brotherhood after Blind Betrayal? I know I do.

An announcement of sorts: I'm gonna be taking a two week hiatus. Thanks to my hands causing all sorts of problems, I've fallen behind in my writing to the point where I feel like I'm constantly playing catch up. It's stressing me out, and it's causing chapters to be consistently released late, which then sets off my anxiety.

So I'm going to spend these next two weeks writing without releasing anything. The chapters will be beta'd, so when I do come back there will be the added bonus of not having chapters already ready to hand each week.

If everything goes to plan, I'll be back on the 24th of September. Thank you for being patient with me, and I'm sorry you're going to have to wait for the next chapter.