Fallout X Reader One Shots

Porter Gage ➵ Heavy

Porter Gage
Fallout 4
Warning: Cursing, Light Gore

I sat on a red, old couch. It was comfortable, but not too comfortable- much like everything else in The Commonwealth. Gage sat on the ground, facing me. He sat with his legs stretched under the couch, leaning back on his hands. I narrowed my eyes at him, "Gage, who the fuck made your eye patch?"

He shrugged a shoulder casually, a cigar hanging loosely from his lips, "Dunno boss. Someone made it and I took it. Just how it goes."

I had made him a new one, since he complained about neck pain (most likely caused by the weight of the metal). I held a firm black eyepatch in my hand. I'd actually found it in a Halloween store, but he didn't need to know that. I wonder if he even knew what Halloween was. I motioned to the bulky contraption covering his eye, "Take it off."

His eye widened a little, his cheeks flushing, "Boss... I don't think... I mean... This hunk of junk don't just cover my eye. I mean... it does obviously... but I mean... there's some scarring and whatnot. Real gross lookin'."

"Gage, babe, I love you, I do, really. But you can be such a pussy sometimes. Just take it off. I don't plan on laughing or anything. Just at least try on the one I got you. If you don't like it, you can go back to wearing a trash can on your face, okay?"

He sighed, putting his cigar out on the rug (it was a fire hazard, but I didn't say anything). He pointed at the strap on the left side of his head right above his ear, "Unclip that for me."

I did so, and he reached behind his head, unsnapping the last clip. He slowly pulled the piece away from his eye, and tore his gaze away from me. His eye was more or less fine. The white of his eye was blood red, making his dark irises almost blend in.

"Hey, Gage? Can you see out of that eye?"

He shrugged a shoulder nervously, "I... I mean I can... 'S just real spotty is all."

The metal had been covering a large burn mark, as well as some age-old bruises beneath his eye and above it. Just a constant reminder that he couldn't really trust anyone ever again. He may trust me, but never fully. One person ruined trust for him.

He held his eyepiece in his lap, fumbling with it so as to keep distracted. His eyes met mine, and they were filled with sadness, "Still just as bad as the day it happened, I reckon. Never really had it properly cleaned. Hurts a bunch in the sun. I'm tough though... Ain't a big deal."

I could tell he was self-conscious, and it seemed so out of place for him. He'd never said a word about self-doubt or anything like that, so I hadn't thought he had any. He smiled a little, it was a sad smile, but he tried to lighten the mood, "Do I look like one of them ghouls?"

I chuckled, reaching over for a first aid kit, "Naw, Gage. You still have a nose. That's more than Hancock can say." He grinned a little. He had no idea who Hancock was at the moment, but he simply wanted to ignore the sadness throughout his bones. I got out a rag and rubbing alcohol, "Gage, I'm not gonna lie to you, this will hurt like hell, but it'll be better in the long run. Your wound never really healed... Maybe this will help. Just, uhm... be ready, I guess."

I slowly pushed the rag to an area near his ear. He sucked air through his teeth, "Damn boss! That hurts!"

"I told you it would, idiot. You want some Jet?"

He shook his head a little as I wettened the cloth again, "Naw. Chems are for bitches."

After one or two more douses, he eventually gave in and huffed on Jet. He hated having to do it, and told me not to tell anyone about it. Eventually, I'd cleaned it all with rubbing alcohol, and then dabbed at it with water, to clean it further. It already looked better. I handed him the lighter patch, and he reached around his head and tied it on. He looked up at me with a dumb grin on his face, "Hardy har, matey! I am here for thy bootee!"

I chuckled, "I don't even know how you got that on your head without tangling up your fingers. Now I see why you really don't take chems."

He grinned stupidly, "Boss, I ever tell you how fine your ass looks in that Vault suit? Real fine!" He whooped and brought his fingers to his mouth, whistling successfully. And loudly. I took his old, rusted, metal patch from the floor, and began cleaning that as well. After he... wasn't high... he would probably go back to wearing his old one. I don't know why. I thought the scars made him look badass. Something about the sun not helping the burns.

Author's Note
Hope you enjoyed!! Any requests??