Fallout Kink Meme Part I: Closed to prompts, open for fills.
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"Fine," Butch replied, as nonchalantly as possible. He looked around the inside of the preservation shelter, searching for something that he could fix his attention on, and coughed. "You, uh... You don't find this too weird or anything?"
"I'm just angry because you went through my stuff, you creep. It's a good job you're pretty, or I'd save myself a lot of trouble and sell you into slavery."
It was true: Butch was ridiculously good-looking. He smirked, although he still felt kind of apprehensive - El was tolerating his choice in underwear remarkably well, and it made him suspicious. If he'd caught a guy in a charming pair of panties, then... shit. He would've used it as blackmail material for years. It would've been too good an opportunity to waste. "So, you're not gonna give me a hard time about this, then? 'Cos don't pretend you ain't tempted."
"I don't care," El said. "You can wear what you want, as long it's not mine."
"Yeah, right, sure. You're probably just acting all cool about this now so's you can use it against me when I least expect it."
"Nah. I'm not always a great human being, but I'm not a spiteful little jerk like you are." El paused, then thought about it. "...Actually, wait, no: I am kind of spiteful sometimes. But I have to draw a line somewhere, and I draw the line at mocking someone's choice in underwear. Why is a guy in girly underwear so bad, anyhow? Are girly things meant to be inherently stupid and humiliating? And if you're wearing girly underwear because it's a sex thing, then so what? Sex is just sex, right? Hell, I once walked in on Susie Mack masturbating with a toothbrush up her snatch. Bristle end first. I don't think anything can surprise me anymore. So, I guess I'm trying to say that I'm not a judgmental kind of person. I mean, my life has been pretty fucked up lately anyhow, so this is small beer compared to what I'm used to. You could run around DC in stiletto heels and a bikini for all I care... although you would look pretty silly if you did that, of course. I'd look pretty silly if I wore stiletto heels in DC. I'd probably break my ankles. Might be okay with wedges, though. Understood?"
"Uh, yeah," Butch replied. "...Now I wanna know more about Susie Mack."
El just shook her head. "How's your leg feeling?" she asked, changing the subject.
It felt weird and numb. "It's okay."
"Am I going to have to carry you back to safety?" El asked. She sounded half serious.
"No," Butch replied, a little too quickly. "Shit, there's no way you could lift me." He hit his fist against his chest. "This is all muscle."
"Sure." El squinted at him. "You know, you look uncannily like the bully who kicks sand in the nerdy guy's face in those stupid bodybuilding ads printed in Grognak the Barbarian. Pass me your t-shirt."
Butch handed her the bloodied, screwed-up t-shirt that he'd been using to apply pressure, and El deftly shredded it into strips, using it as a makeshift bandage. Butch crossed his arms and looked suitably stoic as she tied it around his leg.
"These pants are fucking ruined, y'know," he said.
"Look, if you're so bothered about your outfit, I could cut off your other pants leg as well, so it looks like you're wearing short-shorts," El suggested.
Butch ignored the comment. "You owe me for new threads, woman."
"Don't blame me, dickweed. Blame the Talon mercs."
"The Talon mercs wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you going around and pissing people off and getting a bounty put on your head. You always was an interfering little... interferer." Butch gestured to his leg. "Seriously, I'm going to look like a fucking asshole walking around with one of my pants legs missing."
"You are a fucking asshole," El said, tying a bandage with a bow.
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