that's not how housecalls work

It was earlier in the morning than usual, Butch noted while he stumbled down the empty hallways of the Vault. The stinging smell of alcohol still stuck to his sleeve and pants, not doing any favors for the gash it had a hand in creating. He clasped a hand tightly over the one that was currently gushing out blood in an attempt to not create a trail. Despite his best efforts, he could feel a few drops escaping and hitting the floor silently. When he was finished with the doc, he would have to clean it up somehow.

This wasn’t the first time he’d dragged his sorry ass over to Doctor Hanson early in the morning, however it was the first time he had to drag himself a bit further than the clinic. Not that he minded at all. After all, he needed the space after one of his mother’s episodes. Keeping his left hand grasped to his right, he twisted his arm to check the time on his PipBoy.

2:17 AM.

He had hoped that the doc had decided to work late again, but the door to the office wouldn’t budge. After peeking through the clinic’s window, there was no glow from a terminal that signaled that he was still in. Butch decided then that a housecall was in order.

As softly as the boy could, he rapped a few times on the doctor’s residence, the cool steel of the door blessed him with a stinging, soothing sensation along his bleeding appendage. Butch stepped back after the first initial knocks, wiping the blood from his nose on his shoulder.

While he stood there, awkwardly shifting and listening to the low hum of the Vault he wondered if it was alright that he had shown up. Of course, the doc had told him to come directly to him if anything happened; he was the doctor after all, keeping the residents healthy was one of his top priorities.

After what felt like a tiring eternity, the boy could hear faint, tiny patting against metallic flooring⎼ staggered like someone who had just crawled out of bed. Before he could get closer to press his ear to the door, a sudden rush of air brushed against his face and he quickly scrambled back, hoping that the doc didn’t see him with his face pressed on his door.

“It’s 2 AM,” a groggy voice squeaked out, unlike the warm baritone of the good doctor.

Focusing his head down from where he would expect Dr. Hanson’s face to be, he was met with the short machine of a human that was the doctor’s daughter. Her icy gaze that would normally shoot lasers at him had been obscured by her hand not-so-gently kneading her eyes awake.

Once her hand was out of the way, her glare was ready to fire. Butch desperately hoped that her lack of glasses would prevent her from seeing the red that was currently leaking out of his hand and nose or the bruise splattered across his face. Just as an extra precaution, he faked a cough into his bleeding hand⎼ very inconspicuously keeping it over his face. Propping his good arm up on the doorway, Butch assumed his normal, smug stance.

“Heyyyyy pipsqueak, your pops wouldn’t happen to be up, would he?” Butch tried to keep his strained voice down enough as to not disturb other residents. Unfortunately, the hand that he kept close to his face obscured most of his speech. It also, unfortunately, prompted the girl to close in far too close for comfort.

Sweat began to form at Butch’s forehead as his fears caught up to him and the girl’s eyes squinted ever so slightly at his face, “No. Why.”

He flinched by the slightest bit, her voice not raised in question, but rather cold as a command. Even without her second pair of eyes, she could see right through his facade. The delinquent reminded himself to keep his cool, he could totally talk his way out of it.

The boy lowered his hand to her, choosing his words carefully.

“I, uh, I got in a little scuff,” flashing his

Jay raised a brow. “A scuff.”

“Uhhhh, yyyes…?” Butch prayed that the uncertainty in his voice came off as condescending.

For a second, Butch worried that Jay’s prolonged silence and glaring stare would lead to more questions. He gnawed on his split lip, silently pleading for her to just leave it. Besides, her analytical stare made him get the feeling she already knew.

“Come on,” the short girl pushed off of the doorway and walked back into her apartment, leaving a fidgeting Butch hesitantly following after. He had never actually been in the Hansons’ residence before, no real reason to. It was your standard issue family unit, cold metal walls humming with electricity, a few nicknacks to make the place feel like home.

The unit actually felt smaller than his own, he could feel a crushing claustrophobia as the distance between himself and Jay shrank. She looked at him icily, expectantly— almost professionally, if it hadn't been for the long history of malice between them.

He hadn't noticed the small metal box she had produced and had opened before her on the dining table sitting between them. Jay held her hand out, gently waving her fingertips while her other hand produced needle-like tweezers from the box. Slowly, he unclenched his bleeding palm, pressure releasing as he felt the wound open itself up in tandem with his hand. Jay's eyes scanned over the large gash quickly, almost pinpointing the tiny shards of glass embedded in the open tissue.

Quick work was made of the glass, each little chunk tweezed and discarded on the table. Soon, the gash was sterilized, bandaged, and wrapped. Thankfully, she mentioned, it was small enough not to warrant stitches. After a once over of his nose, she concluded that it was minor as well and was simply bruised.

Butch stood quietly while Jay took care of the clean up, her face darting to the drops of blood left on the floors and releasing a loaded sigh. A pang of guilt struck through him, as he stammered an apology for the mess, "I'll clean it up for ya."

She nodded, providing a couple squares of paper towels. "Knock yourself out. Consider it payment."

He scoffed. "Hey, your dad never charges me."

"You don't wake my dad up at 2 in the morning."

"That's… true. Ya got me there," Butch started soaking up the blood splotches on the floor. Thankfully the mess was relatively small and easy to clean up.

As he disposed of the dirtied paper towels, Butch couldn't help but speak up, "So. Where is the doc anyway?"

Jay nudged her head to one of the shut doors across the living space, "Passed out. He's been pulling a bunch of all-nighters lately."

"That so? Huh," Butch hummed. He rubbed the bandaging on his hand lightly, like father like daughter, huh? "Well, I'll try my best not to bother him too much then."

Jay stood still for a moment, eyes locked to the floor. He could see her lips pursed slightly, as if she was trying to hold back her voice. Butch followed her eyes down to look at the still-stubborn dried blood. His lips pulled back, "I'm uh, sorry. Sorry for bothering you. I'll head out."

"Hey." Her cold voice echoed around the cool steel of the apartment and around his skull. He turned and looked at her, her eyes darting around for a word to say. Never had the same knack for speaking like her old man did.

"It's fine. Come see me if you can't find my dad," she finally spoke.

Butch chuckled, understanding the strangeness that had been settling in the room with them. "Look, me n' you never played nice and you don't gotta start for my sake."

His words weren't sharp, they held no malice for her, for once. In some ways he was envious of her relationship with her father; maybe that was the reason why he started picking on her in the first place. In any case, he didn't want pity— especially not from her.

"Butch, you came into my house dripping blood everywhere. I'm not playing nice, I'm just trying to be decent, alright?" She spit out. "I'm done being childish."

A beat passed, her next words almost being choked back down, "I know your mom is the one doing this."

He let out a loaded sigh, trying to hold back the emotions for the sake of civility; she was the one that patched him up, after all. He turned back to her, frustration still managing to bubble to the surface,

"That is none of your business."

"Yeah, well it's affecting my dad so it is my business," her usual venom that she used with him on a day to day basis dug itself up as she prodded a finger into his chest.

"What?"

"Like you coming in beaten up every other day isn't going to worry my dad," Jay's voice hushed, her eyes darted over her shoulder before pushing Butch through the front door and joining him outside.

"Look— my dad is going through a lot right now; the overseer is breathing down his neck because of me and now all this shit with you lately it's…" she trailed off, running a hand through her hair to mentally reset herself.

"I'm just saying I wanna take a load off of his shoulders. I'm not saying that you're ruining his life, but it's just one more thing for him to worry about. I know we don't get along well— I know, but I just don't wanna be a burden anymore. I can kill two birds with one stone here, I just…"

Butch just stood staring at her, every word a new revalation to him. Neither of them had ever spoken this much before getting into a fist fight; the one time they can speak like people, it's a million things at once. He already felt guilty for taking up the doctor's time, but never had he even considered that his situation was actually weighing on him.

Blinking his eyes to refocus himself, he took a deep sigh. As much as his pride wanted to keep him shut out, he owed a lot to the doctor— and now his daughter too. Swallowing it down, he nodded his head in resignation.

"Shit… I'm sorry, Pipsqueak I—"

"Nothing's your fault, don't apologize. I just wanna make things easier for my dad."
Wringing his hands he looked to her, "Alright well, where do we start?"

Jay's gaze was fixed in the distance, he could feel her calculating brain's gears in motion. "Well, let's start with not being at each other's throats all the time. Meet me at the reactor core tomorrow, we can figure it all out once we both get some sleep."

"Huh? Why the reactor core?"

"I got a place there. Quiet to get away from everything."
Butch craned his neck, " A hideout? You been holding out on me?"

Jay gave him a light shove, "Yeah, a hideout from you. But you can use it if you want."

He let out a light chuckle, feeling the bandaging on his hand. "Uh, is it cool if I actually hang out there tonight?"

Although it had been sometime since he left his apartment, he still didn't feel like going back. A sour feeling always sprung in his gut when he trudged back with his tail in between his legs— one that was unwelcome at the moment. At the same time an excitement filled him; something in the vault that he had yet to see was always welcome.

Jay blinked at his request, "Right. Yeah, let me show you."

Butch felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. The short girl started ahead of him and motioned for him to follow. Their quiet footsteps resonated around them as they made their way to the heart of the vault.

For once, something felt safe.