Colour crimson in my eyes
one or two could free my mind...
This is how it ends
I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream...
Fading out again
I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream
So tell me when it kicks in...
The classroom was very quiet, as it always was about this time. All the 15 year olds were packed in their desks, either spacing off or watching intently, to the current information Edwin Brotch was currently giving about up and coming items of import. "...and so- at age 16, every Vault 101 resident takes the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, or G.O.A.T., which helps determine job placement. In six months, all of you will officially be at an age where you will be taking this test, and moving forward in your lives from simple-"
Totally menial. Don't lie to us Mr. Brotch.
"-jobs, unto the occupation you'll be spending the rest of your lives taking care of..."
LeDaux. James LeDeaux.
Wow.
Okay, so maybe that doesn't exactly work the same as when your last name is 'Bond'...but I suppose that is simple digression from the point. As James Jr, more informally known as 'Maverick', pushed his feet forward and shifted backwards - he began to daze off. If most people couldn't quite their dayjob, Maverick could never quit his day-dream....
His imagination was a wild part of his personality - and took residence (in his mind's eye) about 75% of his day when he wasn't spending time with Butch (whom had started walking with him in the halls and eating with him constantly since that night in the atrium, in which J. M. still blushes to remember-), occasionally tinkering, chilling with Amata, or paying attention to Mr. Brotch's science lessons. Or litterature...he didn't mind the pre-war literature classes they were instructed upon, on the rarest of occasions. Of course, these books were always 'Vault Approved', which basically meant any book that promoted 'Delinquincy', 'Sexual Contact', 'Alcoholism', 'Prophanity', okay....or pretty much anything interesting for that matter....was either completely taken out of the lessons, or 'rewritten in a vault sanctioned' capacity. That said, Maverick had his own set of pre-war books, (like Gone with the Wind and the Outsiders) which they read the vault approved versions of in class, he read frequently. His father had given them to him on his 13th birthday, telling him to NEVER allow anybody know he had them. His favourite was the Outsiders, a story of "greasers" facing off against the socially popular "Socs" in an all out war that had terribly bloody consequences, but also spoke with a voice of many generations. He loved the story, and the way the world was described pre-war made Mavvy marvel and dream. He knew the world wasn't like that anymore, that's why they were down in the Vault, in the first place; but, a teenager could dream about driving flying T-Birds and seeing wide open, green, country sides, right?
J.M.'s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a set of hands on the lower portion of his trapezius muscles, running softly up and down against his jumpsuit. Mav almost jumped, but the hands on his back were so nice they made him instantly relax and almost keen to the movement. "Responsive, as ever-" The familiar hood's voice tickled the blonde's earlobes and careened into his chest, sending waves of warmth all about his extremities. A blush worked its way up his features, tickling the edges of small, refined ears.
"S-shut up, DeLoria..." Mav hissed back, but leaned further into the seat and tilted his head back slightly. This was probably a mistake, the movement would most certainly catch Mr. Brotch's attention, if he hadn't already. A smug grin bound its way up Butch's features, taking residence in the edges of the blonde's upper peripheral.
The two were bordering on losing the world when Edwin snapped their last names into the air, snapping his tone like a whip. "DeLoria! LeDeaux! This is no place for fraternization of any kind." The both of them startled back to reality, Maverick especially jumping out of his skin. Trouble just wasn't his middle name, despite the fact that it literally meant 'one who doesn't conform'. The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose; "I would have expected this from teenagers, especially Mr. DeLoria. But I'm disappointed, LeDeaux. You used to be so well behaved." A sigh left his mouth; "You can just remain after my daily lessons, for a while, perhaps, and we'll have a little talk about your recent delinquency." Honestly, JM felt like Brotch was blowing it out of proportion - but when someone behaved almost perfectly their whole life, naturally adults would expect the highest standards, I suppose. Never-the-less, the dressing down, especially in front of his peers - made Maverick feel more than a little self-conscious.
Butch continued to tease his back muscles, and although James Jr was half-tempted to respond again, he forced himself to look forward.
The greaser didn't seem to take offense-
"Everyone study what I've given yo- for gods sake, Mr. Hannon, find a better place to put that gum besides the underside of your desk-" Everyone was headed out by this time, barely listening to the pleas of their vault tutor, "-STUDY THAT SHEET! That GOAT won't just take itself- OH-don't think I can't see you trying to sneak out in front of Mr. DeLoria, LeDeaux!!"
Fuck-
Butch paused from behind Maverick, giving him a raised eyebrow. But when J.M. gave him a pitiful look, the greaser only rolled his eyes as if he predicted the response; "Whatever, goody-two-shoes. Go be a teacher's pet." It came out in a huff, but somehow Mav just knew his friend (Lover? They hooked up, but Butch hadn't been more than casual about it, yet-) wasn't too pissed off. Butch got a look in his eye when he was angry, and that look wasn't there. Maverick started to reach out and hug Butch, but he pulled himself back and just settled for a hand on the hood's hip. A quick curve of Butch's lips showed he enjoyed the contact, pulling Mav in slightly with his thumb and forefinger pinched against the blonde's chin. "And if Brotch says s'm'n over th'a line, jus' tell me 'n you'll have all the Tunnel Snakes at your back to kick s'm ass." The tone was quiet, a sentiment only intended to be shared between the two. Butch wasn't exactly a 'good' guy, so these sentiments were of the nature that made the smaller teenager shutter.
"Yo, Butch! Leave that lil' pipsqueek, we got shit to do." Wally Mack's voice trailed in from the hallway - leaving Butch looking pissed off in an instant. The two had been going around frequently about Maverick's prescience. Just as Butch started to open his mouth to verbally chase down the offender, Maverick rubbed the brunet's thigh softly to distract him.
"Hey-..." Butch jerked his head down slightly, so as to level his gaze upon the smaller male. His nasal passages were still slightly flared, but the expression quelled slightly when he saw the honest and innocent expression laced upon J.M's features; "It's fine. I'm not really inducted into your cadre, after all-"
"Cadre? You're such a fuckin' nerd, Nosebleed-"
"S-Shut up, DeLoria." A sheepish grin spread across the blonde's innocent face. Maverick opened his mouth to say something else but Brotch interupted sharply with a warning that he needed to get in there, or the consequences would grow. So the teen looked suddenly cowed and said; "I better go-..." He opened his mouth, wanting to say 'Butchie' or 'Love' or something in the coarse french language his father passed on from his ancestors. However, he didn't want to embarrass Butch, in front of the rest of the Tunnel Snakes. Mav knew better, Butch was just not the "lovey dovey" type. So instead he patted the greaser, on the hip, and disentangled himself; "I'll catch up later, alright?"
Whether Butch appreciated it, or even caught his minor pause as anything other than embarrassment from being late (and being, as Butch called it 'a goody two shoes'), he hid it well. The greaser's expression didn't seem to change, same mixture of teenage anger and tender eyes permeating the crease of his nose and stretching outwards to his dipped, thick, black eyebrows. "Sure, Kid. I can't wait up 'r nothin, but, yeah." Something behind his eyes was shifting though, like buried treasure barely spotted behind goggles it almost troubled Maverick.
Was it his unwillingness to just disobey, Brotch?
Or was it just Wally being a cock-sucker, par his usual norm?
Either way - Maverick couldn't identify it. He could spot it, but yet again his perception clashed with the blonde's inability to react to social cues. In the end, the teen just disentangled himself and headed inside the classroom. Butch didn't seem to hesitate to leave with his gang, which worked out due to Brotch wanting to speak without DeLoria's prescience, anyways. After a few minutes (in which J.M. had already situated himself down into the front seat closest to Edwin's desk and started to look nervous) Edwin finally spoke; "....LeDeaux." He said, rubbing his temples for a few seconds before shifting in his desk seat and looking at the blonde teen, straight in his eye. "You were always quiet in my classes. I remember when your father first brought you in..." The tutor gave a laugh, getting mildly nostalgic. "You were terrified of being outside your house for that long. While people like Christine Kendell and Susie Mack were running around socializing...you sat there begging your father not to take your stuffed teddy bear, home. But you didn't cry when he did, you just stood there in the corner looking pretty damn miserable." He laughed a little, before clearing his throat. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not laughing because you were sad, as a kid-"
"It's just that I looked like a lost puppy. I know, my dad tells me the story like five thousand times a week." The teenager looked slightly worn for a second before perking back up to listen to the next statement by his teacher.
"...yes, well...in the end...the overseer's daughter, came right over and you relaxed. Almost like you two clicked. You were fine for a while...and then..." He sighed with exasperation; "Butch DeLoria came in and well, I'm sure you can imagine - if not remember. He pushed you over that day. If I remember...he even called you names I was forced to tell his mother about. Since then, I've watched him push you over metaphorically, and literally, every day, since. Understand, I would love to see DeLoria turn out to be better, but I've seen his type before - and they don't. But you...you're a different type, kiddo. You take a lot after your father, not just in the sense that you're named after him - or even that you have his looks....it's all about your personality. You have an idiolism, in you. You and DeLoria are a bad match."
"I like Butch, sir." The teen said, rather agitated. He didn't like the third degree. It wasn't like he wasn't comfortable with his own sexuality, but nobody liked the feeling of being an ant under a microscope.
The teacher got up from his desk, rubbing his nose for a split minute before he clasped the top of a metal chair, dragging it over. The blue metal made an awful noise across the floor, the sound like someone suddenly starting up a crane in the middle of a silent field. Edwin situated himself down so that he was sitting, leaning on the back of the chair with his legs wrapped around it. It was a casual gesture teachers often made, something to try and make teenagers feel like they were speaking to someone of equal level, versus an authority figure. James Junior tensed more, knowing the psychological tactic from a 10-perception mile-away. "Had I asked you a couple months ago, James, would you have answered the same?"
"Sir...I wish not to offend, but may I request you not call me James? I apologize, it's just...it is to reminiscent of my father. I enjoy being my own person, and preferably not some...carbon copy." The blonde brushed his long locks back, the top of them tangling in between his fingers and forcing him to viciously tug through them. His hair was vastly too long, but he didn't like the current hairdresser (she always had some cheap remark about how long it takes him to come in or some petty statement on his wardrobe, just because she disliked his father-) and his father didn't have time to cut his son's hair anymore. Not with the late nights he'd been having, lately. "...and for your query...it's not that black and white. Nothing is that simple-" A wry laugh trickled up his throat, but he stopped it before it escaped. He wanted to seem like he was taking this conversation seriously, even if his skin was itching and he just wanted to run. He so desperately wished he could catch up to Butch and tuck his head away under the male's sleeve, just follow him around with his head inside the male's jacket - the only sight being leather and metal, only scent pomade and cologne vaguely Axe-Phoenix-esque. In his mind's eye, he was already rushing up and tucking away - surprising the hell out of the brunet. Maybe he'd get ready for a fight, but once he saw it was Mav he'd soften and wrap his arm around-
"You're intelligent, Ja-...LeDeaux." The formality made them both cringe, but what else was Brotch to do? Mav had asked him not to call him James, and 'Maverick' was only used in certain circles - it was something Edwin probably didn't even heard people say often, if at all; "So I don't have to worry about you taking things the wrong way when I say that I just want you to be careful. It doesn't take any Machine, or you and DeLoria wrapped around one another in the classroom doorway, for me to tell from a mile away you don't identify like your other classmates. From the minute we started showing Safe Health for Elicit Exploration Preparation tapes-" SHEEP classes...yikes. What a wonderful time that was in the teenage life...Note to VAULT TEC - giving sex ed a cute name like "Sheep" or "Calf" or 'Baby powder-some-fuck-whatever' didn't make 'lets discuss how the dick goes into various holes and the women start bleeding from their vaginal holes' any easier to talk about. "-you always tested high on the Alternative Orientation Scaling, informally AOS. I remember having to sit with your father and prep him for what was coming for you..."
Maverick gritted his teeth. He knew that, in his way, Brotch was just trying to be kind about things and aid him - but the way he put the last sentence made it sound like a doctor diagnosing some awful cancerous disease. It made J.M.'s skin crawl like worms were digging into him.
"...and I knew the day could come that you would discover at least one of the two of your classmates also tested rather highly on the AOS, as well."
Maverick actually perked up at this. Okay...yes, he knew, now, that Butch was DEFINATELY on the bisexual, or perhaps pansexual, side to things....
But the word that caught his attention was..
'TWO'
He missed quite a few sentences delivered by Edwin, he was too interested in the idle thoughts situated along the identity of the other mystery person. I mean, it wasn't like he wasn't content with Butch. At least unless Butch dumped him...or would it even be counted as that? It wasn't like Butch put a label on what they were. Yes, there was touchy-feely contact, certainly ending up towards the sexual side to the spectrum...and Butch had called him...
Mine.
The memory of Butch's dominant, possessive tone, caused his spine to ripple with a shutter. His distraction was quickly interrupted when Mr. Brotch invaded his train of thought, tapping his desk sharply to catch his attention. "Are you paying attention, LeDeaux?"
"S-Sorry s-sir..." Maverick's nerves brought out his stutter, making it prominent in the quiet classroom with it's silence only broken by the sounds of the still-running projector (it seemed Edwin hadn't turned it off after class, probably due to his attention being so focused on Mav's 'well being'.) Edwin had seen the stutter before, and it was usually a red light warranting a rapid progression into overwhelming anxiety. He'd had to make some exceptions in his class for James Junior, for this reason, plus he had a large amount of respect for James Senior. Pinching the bridge of his nose the tutor took a pause.
"I can see, like any other teenager your age, you have a lot on your mind. Just be careful, kiddo. There are a lot of people who might want to take advantage of someone like you." As soon as Maverick swallowed, the dark tutor realized immediately that he'd said the wrong phrasing for the right reasons; "...I just mean to say you've always had a..." Naivety. Mr. Brotch didn't have to say the word, Maverick could sense it in the collective pause; "...a certain innocence...about you. A lot of us respect that, and would hate to see a smart young teenager, with a bright future ahead of him, have it trashed due to the wrong people at the wrong time."
"Us-?" Maverick tried to keep the skepticism out of his tone, opting for an innocent cock of his head.
"Yes. There are more people, in this vault, who stand in your corner than you give yourself credit for. Now, go be a teenager...or wait- perhaps don't. That's the worst advice I've ever given." He gave a hearty laugh, and although Maverick imitated the noise it was slightly strained - and even more painful - to the ears. Brotch probably noticed, but he didn't push the blonde and instead waved him off.
Mav jumped at the opportunity to depart, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was grateful the 'teacherly concern' talk was over and done with. Blonde locks bounded wildly, his typical waves not wanting to stick around, where they should be. Although Maverick was inclined to instantly seek out Butch, he figured he'd given him a little space so as not to seem as needy as Mav was. Besides this fact, the teen also realized he probably should check in with his father. The man needed to give him a belated check-up, at some point during the next week, at any rate. As it was, he'd asked his father to suspend the regular Vault-Sanctioned Physical, or VSP, to later that week; and since the end of it was rapidly approaching - Maverick came to the conclusion it was only kosher of him. His reasoning, there forth, was pretty simple. He'd stop down at the clinic, get his stupid physical over with, and that would make it seem a lot better that instantly chasing after the greaser like a lost puppy.
Clambering into the clinic, Maverick perked up at the sound of Jonas greeting him warmly; "Hey there. Come to see your old man?"
The blonde shook his head up and down rapidly, "I'm late on my VSP." He acted sheepish, as if he'd just forgotten like someone his age did. It was a total bullshit act and Jonas probably saw right through it, but thankfully he refused to call him on it. Or perhaps James Senior had already advised him on the matter...
"He's in his office, kiddo." Jonas said, having already made it up to the boy he considered like a nephew. Ruffling Maverick's hair, he shot him a twenty-kilometre-wide-grin and patted him on the back, before passing. It seemed Jonas was tinkering about with some vials of blood, probably running preliminary testing on one person's life liquid, or another. It wasn't really pertinent information to Mav, who passed on and smashed his finger into the button to lift up the metallic door. The sensation wasn't pleasant, motion adding to much to it, and he probably pinched a nerve-
He choose to bite through the pain and act like nothing was wrong. But, damn it, he was such a clumsy mother fu-
"Hello, son." The deep voice welcomed him into the office, chemical beakers sloshing a green liquid up and down spiraling tubes. James LeDeaux SR had his back to the door, but somehow he'd recognized Maverick. That was family, for you. When you lived with someone long enough you learned the sound of their footfalls, breathing patterns, and general demeanor. It was the cost of blood, but no curse by any stretch of the imagination. Shifting up on his haunches, the older LeDeaux turned around to give his child a fond grin. It seemed the doc never smiled, not fully. Now, bare in mind, he got a smile in his eyes, when he talked about Catherine (JM's mother), but he never had a full smile to stretch over his features. Mav came to the conclusion, a long time ago, that it just wasn't in his nature to do so; "I suppose I know why you're here. Step to the middle of the room." He started waving him over, and despite a small hesitation on Mav's part (no reason, he casually just couldn't move his legs for a second) the instruction was followed.
"Alright, you know the drill, my boy..." The good doc stated, as fact, pulling up a otoscope-
As some vault tech machinery was taken away from J.M.'s eyes, he found them very blurry. He'd been straining to look into images during the visual process and could swear he could get an ocular migraine. "I'm done, right, dad?" It wasn't that he was impatient, per say, but any child who grew up in the vault got very tired. And it was usually at this part, his father sent him a slip that told him the basics. The vault registered him with high end perception and intelligence, but docked him with anxiety and lack of co-ordination.
Horray! What new and fascinating news!
"Well..." James put down the clipboard; "...for the most part." The male twisted his lips, making Maverick focus in on his parent curiously. "I've had to do this with your other classmates, understand. It's not just you. Everyone has to go through it."
"Sure, sure. I know, dad. What is it?" Maverick looked slightly exasperated with his father's usual ability to ramble in an attempted calming technique.
"...Vault tec research concludes that by this time, you and your classmates have expressed...well...interest, in others."
oh.
OH.
Oh no.
"...I know you're a good boy, kiddo. I don't worry too much about what you're doing when my back is turned-" This made Maverick want to flinch, the trust his father had for him making him feel suddenly guilty about sneaking off, weeks ago now, with Butch. "-but it's still my job to ask you; are you sexually active?"
Maverick suddenly looked pale as a ghost, tucking his head down and scuffling his feet. He was never a good liar, far too much of a guilty conscience, far too bad at manipulation. It wasn't in his nature to lie, cheat, or steal. Maverick mumbled something incomprehensible, making James Sr's features fall from amusement to sudden shock and concern.
"Son...what is the problem?" His voice didn't have to be reproachful, (it wasn't) Maverick felt shame work its way up his features before his name-sake father even said anything. "Have you...?"
"I..." Maverick started, unable to go further than this. There was a terrible, choking silence that followed. How was he going to tell his father that he'd been sleeping with another, at age 15? Granted, he probably wasn't the only teenager to start fooling around, at his age. But he'd always been the 'good kid', the 'gold star', the 'apple of his fathers eye' - he wasn't like Butch. He was constantly getting good grades, trying his best, working hard, and being sweet to anyone and everyone even if they didn't deserve it. So having this kind of scenario pop up-
Not to mention the hows-
But he didn't want to discuss that either-
Why was this so hard? "....son." James interupted his son's inner-monologue, trying to keep his voice level. "...you should know..." Maverick's parent pulled off his stethoscope and placed it gingerly upon the desk; Not that he was really concerned about the piece-of-metal's welfare: but because he wanted to level with his son without pretense of being his physician. This was just strictly father-to-son, talk, now; "...if you are...with...one of your classmates...you can tell me."
Maverick met his father's eyes, brown and familiar. The eyes looked so much like a port, in his own personal inner-storm that he wanted to run into his dad's arms and cry like when he was a child; "I-I...I am." His social stutter came out, amygdala kicking in with an unhealthy dosage of anxiety. "I-I'm s-sorry, dad..." Tears were starting to cloud the kid's vision now, taking over his shaking arms and making his blood run cold.
James came forward, pulling his child in for a hug. The male had to become like a mother and a father, in a way, taking every precaution and step he could to take care of his child. After a few minutes of silent sobbing and James rubbing Maverick's back, the two parted and Mav tried to compose himself, a little better. James SR gave his son enough time to calm, patience showing in his expression. When Mav could speak again, without completely stumbling all over himself, the boy opened his mouth - but James SR beat him to the punch. "You know, you never have to hide anything from me. You should have known, if you have something important in your life - I want to share it. I...I don't care who you find. Just make sure they make you complete...like your mother did, for me." His eyes grew distant when he spoke about Catherine, they always did. It made James JR wonder what his mother was like, sometimes. His father once mentioned Maverick had her eyes, her hair, but his features were mostly like his own.
"Father, may I ask..." Maverick started, considering his words and choosing them carefully so as to distract his father. He hoped he wouldn't have to speak of Butch, because Mr. Brotch was easy to talk to about these things - but his father? He might just have a heart attack if he knew Mav was sleeping with Butch. "...what was mother like?"
"You're mother? She was..." There was a pause, his eyes growing more and more far away as he spoke about his lost love. "She was beautiful." A sigh left his lips; "And she was passionate. About life, about love. But most of all...she was passionate about you."
He tried to imagine it, and although his imagination was usually quite wild and rampant - it was just blank. Perhaps it was the look in his father's eyes, or mayhaps just something to do with the harrowing revelation of speaking to his father about these topics. Whatever the case may have been, Maverick was just simply drawn completely a blank at the thought of what his mother could have looked like. When James SR shook himself back to reality, Maverick had been standing there in silence for some time. The two leveled their gazes at one another, before James cleared his throat and tried desperately to grin comfortingly; "Son, I need to give you some instructions, alright? The Vault would prefer it you not even be sexually active, at all. But should you be, you should at least practice safe sex with Condoms. I'll give you some on your way out. However, since you admitted to me, you've already engaged for your sake I'll need to test you for something called an STD. I'm sure you already heard about them during your SHEEP courses, even if briefly?"
"Yeah, dad." Maverick's cheeks were bright red; "I know what they are."
"Good. Look son..." He put his hand on Mav's shoulder, leveling brown eyes to blue; "I know this is all very awkward to speak with about to your father. You've been my typical brave boy...and should you ever need any advice-" It was obvious the last sentence was merely teasing, but it made Maverick splutter.
"Jesus, Dad-"
A laugh filled the room as James went looking for a needle.
Maverick came sulking towards the kitchen area with a wrap around his arm (where he'd had tests and shots) and a miserable expression. Originally intending to ask Andy for comfort food (since he was watching over the Vault's foot dispensaries until the next poor sap to be assigned the job came along), situating himself down on the bar (carefully, so he wouldn't fall off, mind you) stool and looking at the robot with a pouty look; "Hi, Andy..."
"Good afternoon, Sir!" Andy said in his typically mechanized tone, sounding way too cheery for his own good; "Anything on the human cortex? Femaaaales, of your species, perhaps?" A robotic chuckle followed, but Maverick knew better than to take it for anything more than programming.
Mav opened his mouth, ears red again - but he didn't have time to finish because a weight swung down behind him. "He's got s'mn on his mind, rustbucket." A familiar husky baritone was in his ear, arm leisurely settling over Mav's shoulder. "Nukes, for all the boys - 'cludin' Mav."
"Yes, Mr. DeLoria! And might I say you did a marvelous job with your hair, today-" Andy didn't know the difference between a nice guy and an asshole, it was in his programming. He could look at a guy who won the 'biggest douche-bag in the universe award' and tell him he had nice shoes.
"Thanks, rustbucket." Butch Deloria said, barely paying attention. He was already working on biting against Maverick's ear just because he loved seeing the blonde all flustered and embarrassed. Wally looked annoyed when the greaser brought Maverick over, pulling him down onto the booth beside the rest. Or perhaps that was just his face in general-
"Hi Freddie..." Maverick greeted the other gang member. Freddie Gomez was loosely a member of the Tunnel Snakes, but that didn't make him less of an asset. When he wasn't working hard on studying, or even working in general, the male was stealing information on the guards or getting back confiscated objects. Getting back being a relative term, of course, the reality was he was actually stealing the objects other people, in the vault, had confiscated. Sometimes, the Tunnel Snakes charged caps for their return. Others, they deemed them theirs from then on out, using them as they pleased. Of course, Maverick and Freddie used to get on good when the Tunnel Snake's backs were turned before Butch took to Mav. And now they just get along in general.
Freddie Gomez gave his long-time acquaintance a shy grin, "Hows it hangin', Mav?"
"Uh..." Maverick was socially naive enough he looked up to check the roof (ground?) causing a laugh from Freddie, a groan from Wally Mack, a snicker from Butch, and nothing from Paul (the guy just stayed quiet).
After the brunet stopped his chortling, he reached over the table and ruffled Maverick's wild blonde locks. Maverick huffed and pushed his arms together, but he couldn't really stay mad when the Gomez had just...such an adorable baby face. Honestly, what is that smol bean doin' in a gang, he looks like if he pouts the world would crack in half. That said, the blonde still didn't care much for people messing with his hair or treating him like a child.
Yes, he was innocent.
No, don't fucking touch.
He will bite you...
...
And then promptly apologize.
"Here you are, sirs!" Andy was blessed enough to interrupt - using his arms to lay down Nuka Cola for all of them. "Five rations, please!" Maverick was about to offer up some spare rations he had on hand, trying to be nice to Butch's friends (and partially his own, these past weeks) when Butch (fotha mucker) went ahead and slapped them into Andy's outstretched, metallic hand (limb?). "Enjoy!" Andy floated off with a puff of flame, whirring back towards the food storage area, behind the counter. The greaser seemed to catch sight of Maverick's hand, still holding a few rations he'd dug out - trying to pay Butch back - and pushed them back down. The air tightened, and even Maverick could sense a shift in tension. As everyone popped their bottle caps off, if they hadn't already, overly cheerful banter started up. There was an elephant, that much was for certain. And since Butch was never good at leaving these kinds of things alone, Mavvy wondered how long it was going to be before the bear was poked.
"...I don' know, man. I swear I heard it though." Wally's voice trickled into James Junior's senses, bringing him back down to earth with the rest of them. It was the upteenth time he'd been lost in thought that day, not unusual for him, but still jarring every time.
"For the thous'n'th time. There's no way you heard screamin' in the atrium. Ma' dad woulda talked about 'n issue like that, if there was one." Freddie Gomez decided to add his ditty, all disbelief and eye rolls accompanying it.
Butch looked completely calm, but Maverick was rapidly finding himself slumping down backwards. He found himself wanting to disappear into thin air. Perhaps if he looked pitiful enough he'd get the mercy of god and the divine figure would ensure he activated the spontaneous combustion theory.
And on the seventh day, God said: POOF -
To phrase the mask: I GUESS NOOOT-
"I heard it-" Butch suddenly put in like the sly bastard he was. Wally Mack gestured towards his fellow gang member with two open palms, poignantly shaking them twice before looking at Freddie with a very childish 'told you so' expression.
"I-I didn't-" Maverick's anxious tone put out. Freddie took that into account with a flip of his hand and a quiet slam against the back of the seat upon landing; but, whether that was because it proved his point, on the matter, nobody could tell.
Wally, being the petulant fucker he was, just imitated the statement with wild inaccuracy to his tone; "I-I-I d-d-d-d-didn't. Jesus, you hear this kid? He ain't Tunnel Snake material!"
The statement caught Maverick's attention like someone blew an air-horn straight into his ear. But before he could think to hard on the implications, Butch growled; "OH?" A pause joined the three statements at the hip; "Who's th'a fuckin' leader o' this group?" Black eyebrows furrowed inwards, Butch's lips curling slightly; "Who came up with th'a name?"
"You may've come up with th'a name, Butch, but you ain' the fuckin' boss o' shit-" Wally Mack said, features settling into a vicious scowl. "Ain' nobody went 'n voted your ass a 'say so, know so' man!" Wally's fingers landed on the table, spreading outwards as the two started hitching up into each-other's faces. Paul's fingers reached out to his friend and pulled Wally back down in a desperate attempt to cool off the obvious tension. Maverick, meanwhile, picked up on the gesture and did the same with Butch. There was a quiet moment in which the two sat there, one with arms crossed, other with lips curled, staring down with testosterone flowing outwards like waves.
"...good soda." Someone said along the way, but Maverick couldn't bring himself to comprehend who. He assumed, from the tone, it was Gomez - but the thought only flitted in and out for a split second before flopping back down in the anxiety-filled pit of his stomach. It was a horrible silence, choking and wretching it's way into the hearts and minds of those involved.
A horrible fog settled in the backwaters of James Junior's mind, clouding his ability to think properly whilst the social anxiety kicked in. Thin facial features settled into silent neutrality, whipping away every signal of just how deeply he was suffering under the weight of this sudden interjection of distance.
Butch's eyes drifted down towards his 'companion'-'s and his thick eyebrows tightened around a strong nose. He wasn't used to seeing Maverick so overwhelmingly neutral; he usually wore his heart on his sleeve. At least, he did so most of the time, at any rate. The greaser nudged his friend (Lover? Enemy? Something else?) with a grin breaking out across his features. It was a false smile, and Maverick could instantly perceive it upon first glance. The expression only made the blonde want to shrink inside, more, but he refused to show it. In an attempt to break through the icey air, Maverick tried smirking back. "Don' look so glum, doll-" The nickname (pet name?) broke the veil of self doubt, causing a slight hallowing of Mav's breath; "Big day. Look, we've been talkin'-"
"You have." Wally Mack tried, yet again, to kick something up by the interruption. It caused a slight ruffling of Butch's feathers, but nothing more than a glare was shot the bitchy teen's way.
"We've b'n talkin', 'n we're extendin' invites to the Tunnel Snakes. Whacha say, wanna run with us?" Butch looked giddy, like he'd been sitting on this announcement for quite some time and was ecstatic to let it finally air out.
Maverick spluttered, though, as although he'd come to the conclusion earlier that this could be coming – it was still a shock. In some regards, all be it an asinine way, Wally was correct in his analysis. JM was just not really gang material. The worst he'd ever done was help Freddie Gomez sneak in alcohol to the Vault Prom night, and even then – he'd done so reluctantly. The thought of him running around, being a general delinquent didn't settle in his stomach properly. It only brought up images of James looking down upon Maverick and shaking his head in disappointment, jail cells, and being booted out of the vault on his ass.
"I-" Maverick spluttered out the single syllable, expression agape and stupid. It was unusual to catch JM so off guard he couldn't comprehend a single word in the English language. Yet, here he was, all blank eyes and open mouth. Butch looked expectantly at James JR, like he already knew what answer he was going to give but was waiting for Mav to catch up. Once the blonde had finally shook of his surprise he cleared his throat; "W-well...I...Butch-..." He took a breath to clear his head, then; "...are you absolutely certain?"
Butch huffed, looking impatient; "Did I fuckin' stutter, Nosebleed? Come on, just fuckin' say yea' so we c'n get this convo over."
"W-why, th-though?" The blonde inquired, eyes narrowing slightly with confusion.
"W-w-w-w-w-why th-th-" Wally Mack's attempt to make fun of Maverick was ended abruptly when Freddie kicked him, under the table, causing a sharp; "OW- fuck you, Gomez!"
Butch backed up his brunet friend with another seething glare in Wally's direction, before directing back towards the blonde under his arm. "-'Cuz yo' ass c'n do shit with tech and ya' practic'ly chill with 's, anyways." Butch rolled his eyes impatiently, lips curling this way and that; "I mean, this 's a one time off'a, kid. Not many get ta roll with the Snakes. So ya' in, or not...?"
The statement would have given Maverick pause, but the blonde knew that Butch would have taken anymore silence the wrong way – and that would probably be it. Not just with the Tunnel Snakes (not that he cared: even if he did like Freddie Gomez, and didn't mind Paul, Wally was more than enough asshole to alienate him-), but it could be with DeLoria. The thought flashed over Mav's mind and made him blurt out; "Yes-" Without even thinking properly. The confirmation made Butch look over towards Wally and give him a smug expression, grin all-too shit-eating.
Meanwhile, Freddie clasped Maverick over the back and nodded excitedly; "Cool. It's gunna be fun hangin' with you outside school, kid."
"Tunnel Snakes RULE!" Paul shouted, excited for Maverick – but mostly just wanting to shout it any chance he got.
"Tunnel Snakes RULE-!" Butch and Freddie echoed, leaving Maverick to awkwardly trail in at the end and Wally to ignore the sentiment huffily.
Everyone but Wally lifted their glasses up into the air, more than willing to clink them together and celebrate. It seemed...this was the start of something new. Maverick just hoped he didn't completely get himself in deep by accepting this offer-