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“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to stay away from shady fellas selling chems. But I’m not your daddy!”
…what?
Many people had told Jake Evans that he talked too much. His father, jokingly, when he was enthusing about engineering. Katelyn, angrily, when he was arguing with her over moving Laura. Aiden, wordlessly, when he unplugged the aux cord the day Jake was in charge of PA announcements.
But right now, Jake hated his own damn running mouth, because he had no idea why he said that.
He flipped a switch with fumbling fingers, disconnecting before Anita could ask any questions. Anita, his darlin’, the strongest and bravest woman he’d ever met, who was probably out there laughing at him with whatever friend she’d brought along. (If Jake was lucky, it would be Preston, who would never mention it again. If he was unlucky, it would be Deacon, who would never let him live it down.)
And he’d just said…well. Look, Jake wasn’t dumb, okay? Or at least, he knew and cared about more than just ASAMs. (For the record, Lupe. For the record, Aiden.) He knew that that word had some…implications, when you were talking to someone who wasn’t your actual kid. And he’d just said it without thinking, out loud, to the goddamn savior of the Commonwealth. To Anita, the woman of everyone’s dreams, beautiful and kind and strong enough to smash a Deathclaw’s head in with a pipe wrench. The woman whose endearing, fumbling attempts at flirting were getting harder to ignore, despite Jake’s promise that he’d pretend to be oblivious, because he was a man on a mission and couldn’t afford distractions, damnit.
He’d just said that to her. If the Gunners invaded right now, he honestly might just surrender.
At least it was late. At this hour, everyone was asleep, except for Codsworth cleaning the infirmary. Jake had never been a religious man, but he made a prayer of thanks that Lupe in particular had gone to bed.
“Interesting sign-off.”
Jake jumped about ten feet. Aiden, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch. Like he’d been silently leaning against the door for ages. Because judging by the smirk on his face, he had.
“I - I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
Coffee would help settle his nerves. But he reached down for his mug and - hell. He’d knocked it over, probably when Aiden had startled him. And now his notes on re-programming the Memory Lounger were soaked, plus half of Lupe’s logistics notes.
Son of a goddamn -
“It’s an expression.” Jake started frantically shaking the pages out. They’d dry funny, but…maybe they’d dry. “It’s just a thing you say, when you’re tellin’ a grown adult what to do. It’s a conversation. Not that you would know anythin’ about makin’ conversation, you…how long were you leanin’ against that door, huh? Do you just go around leanin’ against doors and listenin’ to conversations that you ain’t a part of? Is that how the security department is usin’ its resources now?”
Aiden eyed the coffee-soaked files. “Need help with that?”
And now the coffee was dripping onto his shoes. Jake scowled furiously. “No thank you.”
Aiden shrugged. “Alright. Have it your way.”
Jake had a terrible, swooping feeling of what Aiden was about to say a second before he said it.
“After all, I’m not your daddy.”
Jake threw the coffee cup at Aiden’s head. Aiden caught it without looking.
As Aiden’s low chuckle receded down the hall, Jake realized that it was probably the first time he’d heard the other man laugh. And…damn it, he’d just left with Jake’s favorite mug.
“...jerk.”
Jake sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and pushed his fantasies of pushing Aiden off the roof down to a deep, locked-up place in his brain where he kept his memories of Anita wearing a skirt. Or bashing raiders with the kind of zeal that made his scarf feel tight. Or that one time he’d caught her mid-workout in the HQ Gym. Or…it was the place for distracting thoughts, alright, and he didn’t let himself dwell on any of them, or he’d lose sight of what was important.
Sweet jesus, Anita. He was going to have to look Anita in the eye in a few days when she rolled back into HQ.
Maybe she hadn’t noticed.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to stay away from shady fellas selling chems. But I’m not your daddy!”
…what?
The broadcast cut, and Anita was left blinking stupidly at her Pip-Boy, wondering when it had gotten so warm.
Did he just…no. It was just an expression. Maybe it was a Texas thing. Jake probably said that all the time, to everyone, and was probably back at HQ now cheerily sipping his coffee, oblivious to the way he’d just set Anita’s face on fire.
Because this was a totally normal exchange she’d read way too much into, and she needed to get her shit together. And besides, it was probably just a Texas thing.
Deacon slid up next to her. “You’re blushing.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
(He was never going to let her live this down.)