where the heart is
A short and sweet, pillow talk conversation about home and the future.
Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)
572 words | [read on Ao3]
“Do you ever get homesick?”
Snuggled against Butch’s side, Rosie felt the rumble of his voice in her ear. She knew he wasn’t asleep—the lack of snoring was a dead giveaway—and he’d been idly playing with her hand that rested on his chest. But the question surprised her, made her wonder what was going through his head to keep him awake and thinking of…home.
She nestled herself closer. “You mean the vault?”
“No,” Rosie responded, on impulse. She frowned into the fabric of his shirt. “I mean—not really. I—” she hesitated, swallowing back the emotions. “I miss my dad…but the vault?”
Butch’s arm squeezed around her. “Didn’t mean to upset ya’.”
“Do you?” she asked, quietly.
“Nah,” he sighed, shifting slightly. “Just wonder if they’re gettin’ by without us.”
It was a half-joke, given his tone, and Rosie was half-tempted to point out that vault they once called home would’ve collapsed into chaos if it hadn’t been for her intervention. She held her tongue, pushing away the memories of Vault 101—good and bad—it was best to leave the past behind. Megaton was her home now, and if she didn’t have the metal walls to surround her, well…what was the phrase her father had taught her when she was young? Home is where the heart is.
“Ya’ think if your old man was alive he’d flip his lid if he found out we were shakin’ up?” Butch’s question broke the silence and made her wonder if he was reading her mind.
“Is that what you call it?” Rosie smiled against his shoulder before tilting her chin up to look at him. To her surprise, he looked uncertain, rather than holding a teasing smirk like she expected. “Butch?”
He rubbed at her back affectionately. “He just…never liked me, ya’ know? No way he would approve of the two of us.”
“I wouldn’t need his permission,” she reassured.
Yes, there was some truth to what Butch was saying—her dad didn’t have a nice thing to say about Butch DeLoria, but he never got to see this side of him, never got to see how hard Butch worked to keep her happy. Rosie figured the only thing that mattered was her happiness, no matter what her dad would’ve thought.
“A blessin’ would be nice,” Butch mumbled, his hand tightening around hers, running along her ring finger. There was a subtle implication behind his words and gesture that made her heart race, and she carefully studied his profile and expression for a clear sign of his intentions. When did he become so hard to read?
“Guess if he was still alive, lotta’ things would be different,” he said, instead of any kind of impromptu proposal—just the word floating in her mind made her feel dizzy. They were so young—she wasn’t even twenty—what was he doing, thinking about…
Rosie let out the breath she’d been holding, relaxing against him when he turned his head to look at her with a raised, curious eyebrow. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. She thought about what he had said, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against her ear.
“Best not to speculate,” she finally replied. “Better to focus on the future.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, tilting his chin down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re right.”
Rosie smiled, teasing him. “Aren’t I always?”