This is a series of one shots from Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, and Fallout 4. I do not own any of the characters, of course.
All One Shots are in alphabetical order for your convenience.
Anything with an ➵ and a title has been reread, and (hopeful...
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I laughed, "There's no way you said that!"
"I did, I swear, you can ask him yourself!"
"No way am I questioning that man!"
Me and Haylen we're currently discussing something about Proctor Quinlan. He and Haylen never saw eye to eye, let's face it. So, yesterday, Danse and I held a small competition to see who had the most brains of the two so they could finally stop the small war between them. Quinlan got a date wrong by one year, and Haylen got it right, so she won. Now, she is telling me that she challenged him to another competition this morning.
I shook my head, "No way. I'm not judging this time. I'm pretty sure he hates me, you, and Danse, now."
She giggled, "He hates everyone."
"You're not wrong."
We walked side by side, talking as we walked to the training room. She shook her head, "I don't know how you and Danse do it."
I picked a laser rifle, and aimed it at dry air, "Do what?"
"Field work. I mean, you guys get stuff done at an alarming rate. I just don't know how you do it. I don't think I could ever be a Paladin. I'm more for books and writing. Healing, that sort of stuff."
I chuckled, "Duh, that's why you're a Scribe. Plus, I like field work. You impress me. I don't think I could sit around all day doing what you do. It's geniuinly impressive. You should be proud of it."
She sighed, sitting down and watching me practice my gun on a dummy, "Yeah, I guess. I mean, all the Scribe's have that in common. Even Quinlan. We're all jealous of you Paladin's. Not in an angry way, but sort of a sad way, you know? Like a cliché thing about a nerd being jealous of a jock."
"What do you mean?"
"Like... no one grows up wanting to be a Scribe. I mean, I'm sure one or two people do, but most of us are just those that weren't physically or mentally wired for field work. It's like Elder Maxson didn't know what to do with us, and didn't want to reject us, so just said 'You can't do anything useful, but you can make stuff that the useful people can use later.' It's all very complex."
I shrugged, "I think we all go hand in hand. Elder Maxson just doesn't know how to phrase things. To put it simply, we're brains and brawn. You guys have the minds, and we have the bodies. Together we make the Brotherhood." I looked to her for a reaction, but she stayed silent. "Why are you talking to me about this?"
She shrugged a shoulder, "Not sure."
I put my gun down, and stood in front of her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Haylen, don't be self-conscious about it, alright? You are brains and brawn. You help us scout places, and you read books. You are extremely intelligent, and you also know how to handle yourself. When I first met you back in Cambridge, you were fighting off ferals and patching Rhys up. If that's not impressive, I don't know what is."
She smiled up at me, putting her hand over mine, "Thanks. You don't know it, but it really means a lot to hear you say that."
"It's true. Every word. Now let's go grab a bite. I'm starving."
She laced her fingers with mine, "You're always hungry."
