They'd been traveling together for a few weeks, and Aries still selfishly hoped that Bud would forget about Vault-Tec. The motorcycle was swapped out for a Securitron-- slightly modded by Aries, just enough so that Bud's platform could dock into the frame. A gas-masked man and his awkwardly designed robot-cyborg-boyfriend walking (rolling) into Goodneighbor required some quick talking.
"I'm not a Raider and he's not a cop!" Aries tosses his hands up as he throws both of them under the bus.
Does it? As far as Bud is concerned, this is normal. Especially considering some of the other things they’ve seen. He was initially a little unsteady on his new single wheel, but he’s mostly gotten the hang of it now; almost never runs into walls (or, as the case may now be: through walls).
“It’s true: my good companion and I are just passing through. We were hoping to purchase some time in the Memory Loungers. For personal reasons.”
They have this going for them: Bud does not sound like a cop or a raider: he sounds pleasant and soothing, if slightly naive. He is also still very obviously a human brain. Just a human brain. That’s throws a lot of people off enough to let him and Aries slide through what might otherwise be a sticky situation.
Goodneighbor has seen much more out of the ordinary-- actually, a sweet-o robot and a sketchy dude rolling (hah) up to spend caps? Aries figures he can count on Bud's barter-skills to be higher than his own. He was the man with the gun, Bud was the brains of the operation.
(hah!)
Aries pokes his head into the establishment, and sees a very boudoir situation. A quick exchange with the lovely lady owner, he helps Bud park the robotic shell in the adjancent alley with the private entrance. He also assisted in popping Bud's brain out, so that he could roll into the Memory Den with a little bit more dignity.
Once they seem to be done with their fabulous entrance, the Lovely Lady asks, "You ...two --seem to be familiar with our services?"
Aries looks over (and down) at Bud. Dazzle her, Bubble.
It’s funny that he feels more like himself when he’s around knee level. Hopefully that’s just because it’s what he’s gotten used to, and he’ll get used to the Securitron’s height in due time. Right now, it’s a little like wearing platform shoes, which Bud never did when he had the appendages to put in shoes.
“Well, as it turns out, I actually used to be acquainted with the man who originally designed these beauties. Although he called them Visiontrons. Interesting man. He was a work acquaintance, so we haven’t kept in touch, but I hope he’s well.”
He’s murdering people. He’s doing great.
The proprietress doesn’t seem overly dazzled, but she’s dazzled enough to take their caps and not try to screw them over, charge them an assholr tax, or charge them a ‘this is a weird sex thing’ tax. They each climb (Bud: is placed) into a pod with connecting wires. Bud’s connection to the overall mainframe is a little unorthodox, but his bio med gel is an excellent conductor.
The first thing he sees on loading the simulation are a pair of human hands. He knows them like the backs of themselves. They are his own.
Aries has never used a machine like this before-- and he wasn't one that was always taking his mask off in mixed company. Either way, he waits until Bud is hooked up before he allows himself to let down his defenses and hop inside. Hop might not be the word, even if it feels like that when he spawns inside the simulation.
He's sans-mask, and instead of looking at his hands, he looks at his clothes. Not the Blue Ridge Caravan uniform. A off-white shirt, cheaply made, itchy. Slacks. Slacks. Slooowly, he raises a hand to his mouth, and doesn't feel the scars.
Bud's memory would have been before the war, obviously. Aries was alive and well somewhere when Bud's memories were happening-- They didn't discuss this as much as Aries would have liked, he didn't want to get his hopes up too far.
Part of him didn't think they'd get this far, and putting his whole body into a machine amped his anxiety up, he didn't even consider he'd be Calvin van Lowe, pre-war nerd.
‘Calvin van Lowe: pre-war nerd’ is my favorite pre-war YA novel
Bud is not anxious: Bud is ecstatic. He has arms. He has legs. He has everything. It’s like slipping on a familiar suit, a thing he is also coincidentally wearing. It’s a dark grey number: nothing too fancy, but well tailored. His left wrist is bare: no Pip-Boy. They’re before that.
He’d been careful with the memory. Nothing anywhere near the end, even if those memories are likely his strongest. It wouldn’t do to go to all this trouble only to have to go through having his skull cut open again.
The before memory he’s brought them to is strong enough. Something Bud would call unforgettable, even if a lot of people wouldn’t.
He’s seated at a booth in a coffee shop. It’s the same little place he’d go to every morning for coffee and a pastry. Normally that wouldn’t be enough for the lounger to pull from, but today is a special day.
It’s his first day at Vault Tec.
Bud tries, but can’t quite catch his reflection in a spoon. He wonders if Aries will recognize him.
Edited (A word) 2026-03-28 15:38 (UTC)
Calvin van Lowe and the No Good, Very Bad, Face Rippingly-Off Day
Aries figures he probably just came in wearing whatever a random stranger that day was wearing. Maybe it knew that his memory of this time would require his body to be intact. Maybe it was that time he let the science lab scan his brain at Vault-Tec University. It really could be anything, maybe he shouldn't even worry about it.
But he does recognize Bud. Aries realizes he's blocking the damn door whwn the waitress calls attention to him doing so-- He moves inside the diner and his eyes immediately find Bud. Ever resourceful, he snatches a fake daisy from a coffee cup on the hostess station.
"Mr. Askins, I'm here from the future." Aries nearly throws himself into the other side of the booth (center of gravity feels weiiiird) and presents the immortal daisy to Bud.
Edited (sry if i said HIS IMMORTAL DAISY, it would have been another meaning??) 2026-03-28 20:13 (UTC)
Bud makes eye contact with the familiar if less-Assaultron-ed figure coming towards him, and swears he can hear romantic background music swell. It’s probably just the jukebox in the cafe. He smoothes his hair self consciously, even though it couldn’t be tidier. He’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. He probably looks slightly insane, so he tries to at least not bare his teeth.
He glances down at the daisy, and then, instead of taking it, grabs Aries by the front of the shirt and hauls him half way across the table so he can kiss the other man until he runs out of breath.
“Please never call me Mr. Askins again. You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”
He settles back into his seat and straightens his already straight tie.
“Do I, um, pass muster?”
He knows Aries has seen him on holotape, but he’s still nervous about the three dimensional full color version being a letdown.
For a split second before Bud kisses him, Aries thinks he made a terrible mistake. Instead of a hilarious misunderstanding, it's a delightful surprise! A security blanket whilst you stumble through a life-like simulation. It was much like the feeling of knowing you can sleep in, warm and comfy and safe. A feeling that Aries hadn't felt in decades.
He raised his voice playfully, "I wasn't sure if you'd know me!" That was when he realized he didn't even sound the same. Calvin's vocal cords would be as he remembered them.
"Iiii think I have some idea." Bud, you wear your heart on the tempered glass encasing your brain. He slouches in his seat with his hands in front of him, his eyes moving to take in every bit of Bud. Bud's bits.
"You are much cuter in person. The holotapes didn't do you justice."
The smile re-launches. Teeth are go. Bud has good, but normal teeth. No movie-star caps. They’re white, but not blinding.
“You still look like you, just younger.”
And with fewer scars, but Bud figures that goes without saying. He can even hear the voice he knows as Aries’ in this younger man’s voice. It’s like hearing just the flute section of what will eventually be a full orchestra. He gestures at Aries.
“Did you mean to do this? I have no complaints- …actually, I’d really like to rub my hands all over your face. But, uh, just curious. It’s funny how these things work.”
Bud points up, which makes it look like he’s talking about so-called-God, and not the machines he means.
“God, I really want to touch your face.”
He was expecting other parts, and he also wants to touch those, but there’s something very intimate about the face, especially in Aries’ unmasked case.
Bud's smile makes Aries feel bashful. Getting to know the brain of the man before him was scrambling all logic-- he just knew he like-like-liked him. If he had to describe it in detail, it would be something about how his stomach was being yanked up to rescue his heart from beating too fast. At least he wasn't getting obsessed with a mythical creature... oh no, being in a simulation with his brain-boyfriend would really drive him to drink later.
He nods enthusiastically with Bud's request-- not at all strange. Bud says he wants to touch his face, Aries says how high. Wait, no.
So much so that he launches himself up out of the other side of the booth to scoot into Bud's side. Knee touching knee. Shoulders rubbing. Aries and his squishy, young face in Bud's.
Bud can accept his former body being akin to a mythical creature, as long as his current actual self (brain) doesn’t become unfulfilling because of it.
He’d like to touch Aries’ face all the way to the top.
But oh. A knee against his knee; a shoulder against his shoulder. Bud is overwhelmed with the sensation of it all. He turns his face so that his forehead can rest against Aries’, and brings both hands up to cup Aries’ jawline. One thumb strokes slowly down Aries’ cheek; the one that should be scarred. He lets out a shuddery breath.
“You feel so real.”
He was prepared for it to be a little off. The loungers are made for people with entire bodies, after all. But they interact with the brain, and Bud’s brain is interacting as hard as it can.
“Will you touch me? With your hands, please. Anywhere you want.”
That might be a dangerous invitation. Bud doesn’t care. This is his memory; he can do what he wants in it.
It was looking more and more likely that after this encounter, they'd go back to their lodging so Aries could drink himself to sleep and Bud can quietly be sad. Until then, release all the oxytocin! Electricity, light up their lobes!
Aries liked that Bud was compact, all of Bud in his globe. However, he certainly was happy to be presented with the opportunity to do something a little more (or less) biologically familiar to him. He'd never been this intimate with someone, and somehow the Lounger made it feel even more so-- abstract and dream-like. He'd never say it was 'vague,' it was everything at once. It was just him and Bud, inside Bud's globe.
And that wound him up like a feral.
He playfully mutters, "Just my hands?" Then he roughly pushes Bud's shoulder and advances on him. Wedging Bud into the corner of the booth, getting a leg between Bud's knees. His hands go to the other man's waist, his nose into the crook of Bud's neck.
With his lips brushing against skin --skin that was definitely not imagined, he had to utilize the program a little. "What do you smell like?" He can see Bud, he can taste skin, but he wouldn't have a memory of smelling a person he never met.
It will be painful when this is over, and he’s just a brain again (even if he’s mounted on a Securitron), it won’t be entirely devastating. These are new memories, and likely to stay with him for some time. These feeling of Aries’ hands on him won’t be fading away anytime soon.
He gasps with delight as he’s shoved back, and Aries slots a leg between his knees. He’s a sucker for displays of dominance like that. He feels like he’s vibrating. He is shaking, just a little.
“Or anything else. All of you is great.”
Great is an understatement.
“Um. Soap, I guess. I never used cologne.”
That’s a holdover from his West-Tek days. Cologne treaded a little too close to feminine for comfort.
“Can you tell me what I feel like to you? What I look like? If it’s not too weird.”
It’s easier to remember that way. Not only because someone has said it, but because Aries has.
needed a quick visual aid-- the internet tells me the girlies love bud. no surprise.
For the longest time, Aries was always in his own head. He cared about real things-- Shelley and school. Maybe not so much the nukes, not out loud. Protocol Adonais was his plan for a eulogy, painfully aware he would die (soon) and he'd have no one (living) to remember him.
Aries saw himself in Bud (heh), even if they were vastly different. Same building materials, but the houses had their own flaws. Features! Not flaws.
His voice drifted as if he were bored or sleepy, it wasn't at all. Dreamy. Awestruck! He was happy to put all the attention on Bud. "S'okay, my nose isn't that great even outside this thing..."
With their bodies pressing together, even so awkwardly, Aries wondered why anyone ever did anything outside of the Memory Den. He smoothed his hands over Bud's waist and hips, dipping his fingers past his waistband. Getting into his personal space, pushing his nervous system against Bud's and burrowing. Still nuzzling his neck, he complied.
"You're cute-- not in a way that's emasculating, you have sweet eyes and your smile is going to make me throw up-- I mean that in the best way... There's way too much suit here, Bucko, you look soft but you are not soft." An Assaultron made him see death close up and has curves on curves... but Bud is an actual living man. A man. He hooked his fingers over Bud's shoulder and gripped him closer.
The girlies are me and like one other person on Twitter
He closes his eyes, so he can see himself through Aries’ words. He doesn’t mind ‘cute’ at all. Honestly, he’d sort of mourned being too old for the word. But according to Aries, he’s still got it. (Well, had it.)
He wriggles under exploratory fingers. Not because he doesn’t like it. Not even because it tickles (he’s not particularly ticklish). He wriggles because it feels good to wriggle. The Rollerbrain is entirely incapable of wriggling.
To be fair, it’s incapable of a lot of things, but Bud has gotten good at telling himself he has alternatives. Rolling beats walking! Sleep? No thanks, he’s getting things done! But he has forwards, backwards, and turning. There is nothing remotely like or able to replace wriggling.
“I like the way you see me, but I still don’t think I can take all of my clothes off in the middle of a coffee shop, even if it’s just the memory of one.”
Bud's hesitation is enough for Aries to back off-- mostly. He's still leaning in, not leaving any room for the So Called Holy Ghost, just allowing Bud to breathe (simulated breathing).
"There's a bathroom..." Slouched in his seat, vaguely gesturing in the direction of the kitchens. You know, plumbing. "I'm kidding, unless..."
Aries sits up straight, "Did you say why it was this memory you chose?" He can't think. All the blood is rushing away from his brain back in the real world.
Does he regret telling Aries’ about the rendezvouses he has had in public toilets? A little bit. He’s not ashamed of those rendezvouses though.
“I didn’t, no. You don’t have to say it out loud, these machines can pull things right out of your hippocampus.”
He squeezes his thighs gently around Aries’ knee. That’s nice. Even better than wriggling. His thumb is still stroking Aries’ cheek.
“You don’t have to worry, though. It’s just my first day at work. I’d be running late, actually, if this was real. I didn’t stop for heavy petting back then.”
Aries didn't get the idea for bathroom stall sex from Bud. The way that it's passed over does remind him that Bud shared that story with him. Dammit, Aries, think a little before you speak in your dreamworld!
The embarrassment that he feels at being touched and studied, being vulnerable the way they were, all tangled-- It's almost too much. He didn't want to pull away, he liked it, and Bud liked it. It was the emotional equivalent of being so hungry that you didn't want to eat. Too tired to sleep. Scarred and touch-starved and this was just in the simulation.
"You had just moved here, then? From the Mother Land?" Aries thought his Russian Accent sounded much better in the less-scratchy voice "Take me home, country roads?" He was going to attempt some eye-contact, everyone stand back.
Back then-- back now, even, Aries had eyes the color of a dirty penny, and hair the color of dishwater. And there he was, second basin' it with a business man in a suit. A suit. "Do you want to show me around?"
Bud likes what he sees. Mostly because it’s Aries. He could look like anything and Bud would like it. But the hazel eyes and dark blonde hair on top of Aries’ intact face are nice too. He’s always felt he had to be careful about calling Aries handsome, even if he thinks the other man is. He’s had a significant appearance altering injury and it has clearly affected his self-image. Bud doesn’t really register the scars anymore, but they’re the kind of flaws you always see in yourself, like Bud always sees his own round face, and hair he’d call mousey. What’s hardest to explain is that what Bud finds most handsome about Aries is Aries. His whole Aries-ness. He knows if Aries called him handsome it would feel just as strange: he’s just a brain. He has a shiny new chassis, but he doesn’t have a jawline. He doesn’t have eyes. He doesn’t have any of the stereotypical handsome parts.
He brushes Aries’ hair tenderly back from his temple.
“Pretty recently, yes. I could definitely show you around though. I could even, uh, take you home via Los Angeles roads. To my place. If you wanted, that is. I’d take you to Vault-Tec, but I’m a little worried I might accidentally get wrapped up in the onboarding process. I’m worried you might not find that very entertaining.”
Aries closed his eyes as Bud's hand smoothed his hair back. He could probably handle being called handsome by Bud eventually. He could probably handle a lot of things, maybe even being told he was loved. He was being so careful to stay just on the outside, don't slip into the never ending pit of eventual heartbreak!
He sits up, slowly detangling himself from Bud, while grinning like he was just told they were going to Nuka World. "--I don't wanna go to Vault-Tec! Your house? We can go to your house? I can see your stuff? I mean, physical... stuff, uh I mean your belongings." They always say you can't take it with you and they were WRONG.
Even more bolt upright, sniffing before nearly bellowing, "Do you have pajamas?" His sinuses felt weird, anyhow. Why would he remember hay fever? Aries tries to remember if he had allergies, or is his brain remembering what it felt to breathe easier.
You could (if you were a big jerk) say that Bud doesn’t have to worry about all of that, since Bud doesn’t have a heart. It’s true that he doesn’t, but he still feels like he does. The heart gets a lot more credit than it deserves.
“Yes? A lot of it is still in boxes. But I’d be happy to have you over. Maybe I can remember us some cocktails. …Even though it’s technically about eight-thirty in the morning.”
Bud remembers allergies all the time, and he doesn’t even have a nose.
“And yes, I have pajamas. They should fit you too.”
When you spend so much time with blood caked up in your nose and throat, some funky sinus action and a little bit of a runny nose is a treat.
"Cocktails," Aries pulls a face, incredulous, "When you can be unpacking? With me? In your pajamas?" That was a little presumptuous of Aries, wasn't it? "Unless you want to remember cocktails. Do you think this place will sell us a whole banana cream pie??"
Not a sex thing, it would just really hit the spot after living through the end of the world.
“We could have cocktails while unpacking, while both of us are wearing my pajamas. Not the same pair of pajamas, my pajamas weren’t that big.”
Unpacking seems a little futile: everything in those boxes was unpacked long ago, and most of it has since likely been destroyed by Nuclear bomb. But Bud gets why Aries is so intrigued by the idea: it’s a chance to get know and see Bud in a way he would otherwise never be able to. It’s intimate, letting someone go through your possessions. Bud trusts that Aries won’t hold the plethora of Cooper Howard related merchandise against him. He chuckles at Aries’ request. It vibrates pleasantly in his chest and belly in a way that the Rollerbrain can’t replicate.
“I don’t see why not. Do you want anything else? Maybe I’ll get apple too.”
"Since this is a memory, we can just take it. Will you be able to do that?" He means steal. It's not really stealing!
Aries forces himself to get up, because if he doesn't, he will just be blocking Bud from leaving the booth forever.
Over to the counter he strides, gazing into the well-lit case. Everything was vivid and beautiful and slightly ... scary. Maybe Bud didn't get a good look over this way?
"Bag up all these pies, my fri-- my BOYfriend and I are taking them ...home." Ooh, tingly. The universe kept trying to squash Aries and he continued on. He thought he'd die alone-- he was alone but didn't die. He was desperate for friends and family-- Carver showed up on the Blue Caravan routes just like Aries thought he would.
And now, he's having a very vivid hallucination that he has a rich boyfriend. A rich boyfriend who needs help unpacking his Cooper Howard stuff. They both had their eccentricities, ah yes, but Bud works hard so that Aries can focus on his inventions. You know he invented Post-It Notes??
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sheepsquatch) wrote2026-03-25 06:48 pm
no subject
They'd been traveling together for a few weeks, and Aries still selfishly hoped that Bud would forget about Vault-Tec. The motorcycle was swapped out for a Securitron-- slightly modded by Aries, just enough so that Bud's platform could dock into the frame. A gas-masked man and his awkwardly designed robot-cyborg-boyfriend walking (rolling) into Goodneighbor required some quick talking.
"I'm not a Raider and he's not a cop!" Aries tosses his hands up as he throws both of them under the bus.
no subject
“It’s true: my good companion and I are just passing through. We were hoping to purchase some time in the Memory Loungers. For personal reasons.”
They have this going for them: Bud does not sound like a cop or a raider: he sounds pleasant and soothing, if slightly naive. He is also still very obviously a human brain. Just a human brain. That’s throws a lot of people off enough to let him and Aries slide through what might otherwise be a sticky situation.
no subject
(hah!)
Aries pokes his head into the establishment, and sees a very boudoir situation. A quick exchange with the lovely lady owner, he helps Bud park the robotic shell in the adjancent alley with the private entrance. He also assisted in popping Bud's brain out, so that he could roll into the Memory Den with a little bit more dignity.
Once they seem to be done with their fabulous entrance, the Lovely Lady asks, "You ...two --seem to be familiar with our services?"
Aries looks over (and down) at Bud. Dazzle her, Bubble.
no subject
“Well, as it turns out, I actually used to be acquainted with the man who originally designed these beauties. Although he called them Visiontrons. Interesting man. He was a work acquaintance, so we haven’t kept in touch, but I hope he’s well.”
He’s murdering people. He’s doing great.
The proprietress doesn’t seem overly dazzled, but she’s dazzled enough to take their caps and not try to screw them over, charge them an assholr tax, or charge them a ‘this is a weird sex thing’ tax. They each climb (Bud: is placed) into a pod with connecting wires. Bud’s connection to the overall mainframe is a little unorthodox, but his bio med gel is an excellent conductor.
The first thing he sees on loading the simulation are a pair of human hands. He knows them like the backs of themselves. They are his own.
no subject
He's sans-mask, and instead of looking at his hands, he looks at his clothes. Not the Blue Ridge Caravan uniform. A off-white shirt, cheaply made, itchy. Slacks. Slacks. Slooowly, he raises a hand to his mouth, and doesn't feel the scars.
Bud's memory would have been before the war, obviously. Aries was alive and well somewhere when Bud's memories were happening-- They didn't discuss this as much as Aries would have liked, he didn't want to get his hopes up too far.
Part of him didn't think they'd get this far, and putting his whole body into a machine amped his anxiety up, he didn't even consider he'd be Calvin van Lowe, pre-war nerd.
‘Calvin van Lowe: pre-war nerd’ is my favorite pre-war YA novel
He’d been careful with the memory. Nothing anywhere near the end, even if those memories are likely his strongest. It wouldn’t do to go to all this trouble only to have to go through having his skull cut open again.
The before memory he’s brought them to is strong enough. Something Bud would call unforgettable, even if a lot of people wouldn’t.
He’s seated at a booth in a coffee shop. It’s the same little place he’d go to every morning for coffee and a pastry. Normally that wouldn’t be enough for the lounger to pull from, but today is a special day.
It’s his first day at Vault Tec.
Bud tries, but can’t quite catch his reflection in a spoon. He wonders if Aries will recognize him.
Calvin van Lowe and the No Good, Very Bad, Face Rippingly-Off Day
But he does recognize Bud. Aries realizes he's blocking the damn door whwn the waitress calls attention to him doing so-- He moves inside the diner and his eyes immediately find Bud. Ever resourceful, he snatches a fake daisy from a coffee cup on the hostess station.
"Mr. Askins, I'm here from the future." Aries nearly throws himself into the other side of the booth (center of gravity feels weiiiird) and presents the immortal daisy to Bud.
no subject
He glances down at the daisy, and then, instead of taking it, grabs Aries by the front of the shirt and hauls him half way across the table so he can kiss the other man until he runs out of breath.
“Please never call me Mr. Askins again. You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that.”
He settles back into his seat and straightens his already straight tie.
“Do I, um, pass muster?”
He knows Aries has seen him on holotape, but he’s still nervous about the three dimensional full color version being a letdown.
no subject
He raised his voice playfully, "I wasn't sure if you'd know me!" That was when he realized he didn't even sound the same. Calvin's vocal cords would be as he remembered them.
"Iiii think I have some idea." Bud, you wear your heart on the tempered glass encasing your brain. He slouches in his seat with his hands in front of him, his eyes moving to take in every bit of Bud. Bud's bits.
"You are much cuter in person. The holotapes didn't do you justice."
no subject
“You still look like you, just younger.”
And with fewer scars, but Bud figures that goes without saying. He can even hear the voice he knows as Aries’ in this younger man’s voice. It’s like hearing just the flute section of what will eventually be a full orchestra. He gestures at Aries.
“Did you mean to do this? I have no complaints- …actually, I’d really like to rub my hands all over your face. But, uh, just curious. It’s funny how these things work.”
Bud points up, which makes it look like he’s talking about so-called-God, and not the machines he means.
“God, I really want to touch your face.”
He was expecting other parts, and he also wants to touch those, but there’s something very intimate about the face, especially in Aries’ unmasked case.
no subject
He nods enthusiastically with Bud's request-- not at all strange. Bud says he wants to touch his face, Aries says how high. Wait, no.
So much so that he launches himself up out of the other side of the booth to scoot into Bud's side. Knee touching knee. Shoulders rubbing. Aries and his squishy, young face in Bud's.
no subject
He’d like to touch Aries’ face all the way to the top.
But oh. A knee against his knee; a shoulder against his shoulder. Bud is overwhelmed with the sensation of it all. He turns his face so that his forehead can rest against Aries’, and brings both hands up to cup Aries’ jawline. One thumb strokes slowly down Aries’ cheek; the one that should be scarred. He lets out a shuddery breath.
“You feel so real.”
He was prepared for it to be a little off. The loungers are made for people with entire bodies, after all. But they interact with the brain, and Bud’s brain is interacting as hard as it can.
“Will you touch me? With your hands, please. Anywhere you want.”
That might be a dangerous invitation. Bud doesn’t care. This is his memory; he can do what he wants in it.
dang my tenses are all fucky
Aries liked that Bud was compact, all of Bud in his globe. However, he certainly was happy to be presented with the opportunity to do something a little more (or less) biologically familiar to him. He'd never been this intimate with someone, and somehow the Lounger made it feel even more so-- abstract and dream-like. He'd never say it was 'vague,' it was everything at once. It was just him and Bud, inside Bud's globe.
And that wound him up like a feral.
He playfully mutters, "Just my hands?" Then he roughly pushes Bud's shoulder and advances on him. Wedging Bud into the corner of the booth, getting a leg between Bud's knees. His hands go to the other man's waist, his nose into the crook of Bud's neck.
With his lips brushing against skin --skin that was definitely not imagined, he had to utilize the program a little. "What do you smell like?" He can see Bud, he can taste skin, but he wouldn't have a memory of smelling a person he never met.
no subject
He gasps with delight as he’s shoved back, and Aries slots a leg between his knees. He’s a sucker for displays of dominance like that. He feels like he’s vibrating. He is shaking, just a little.
“Or anything else. All of you is great.”
Great is an understatement.
“Um. Soap, I guess. I never used cologne.”
That’s a holdover from his West-Tek days. Cologne treaded a little too close to feminine for comfort.
“Can you tell me what I feel like to you? What I look like? If it’s not too weird.”
It’s easier to remember that way. Not only because someone has said it, but because Aries has.
needed a quick visual aid-- the internet tells me the girlies love bud. no surprise.
Aries saw himself in Bud (heh), even if they were vastly different. Same building materials, but the houses had their own flaws. Features! Not flaws.
His voice drifted as if he were bored or sleepy, it wasn't at all. Dreamy. Awestruck! He was happy to put all the attention on Bud. "S'okay, my nose isn't that great even outside this thing..."
With their bodies pressing together, even so awkwardly, Aries wondered why anyone ever did anything outside of the Memory Den. He smoothed his hands over Bud's waist and hips, dipping his fingers past his waistband. Getting into his personal space, pushing his nervous system against Bud's and burrowing. Still nuzzling his neck, he complied.
"You're cute-- not in a way that's emasculating, you have sweet eyes and your smile is going to make me throw up-- I mean that in the best way... There's way too much suit here, Bucko, you look soft but you are not soft." An Assaultron made him see death close up and has curves on curves... but Bud is an actual living man. A man. He hooked his fingers over Bud's shoulder and gripped him closer.
The girlies are me and like one other person on Twitter
He wriggles under exploratory fingers. Not because he doesn’t like it. Not even because it tickles (he’s not particularly ticklish). He wriggles because it feels good to wriggle. The Rollerbrain is entirely incapable of wriggling.
To be fair, it’s incapable of a lot of things, but Bud has gotten good at telling himself he has alternatives. Rolling beats walking! Sleep? No thanks, he’s getting things done! But he has forwards, backwards, and turning. There is nothing remotely like or able to replace wriggling.
“I like the way you see me, but I still don’t think I can take all of my clothes off in the middle of a coffee shop, even if it’s just the memory of one.”
and meeee~
"There's a bathroom..." Slouched in his seat, vaguely gesturing in the direction of the kitchens. You know, plumbing. "I'm kidding, unless..."
Aries sits up straight, "Did you say why it was this memory you chose?" He can't think. All the blood is rushing away from his brain back in the real world.
All 3 of us!
“I didn’t, no. You don’t have to say it out loud, these machines can pull things right out of your hippocampus.”
He squeezes his thighs gently around Aries’ knee. That’s nice. Even better than wriggling. His thumb is still stroking Aries’ cheek.
“You don’t have to worry, though. It’s just my first day at work. I’d be running late, actually, if this was real. I didn’t stop for heavy petting back then.”
and Aries....
The embarrassment that he feels at being touched and studied, being vulnerable the way they were, all tangled-- It's almost too much. He didn't want to pull away, he liked it, and Bud liked it. It was the emotional equivalent of being so hungry that you didn't want to eat. Too tired to sleep. Scarred and touch-starved and this was just in the simulation.
"You had just moved here, then? From the Mother Land?" Aries thought his Russian Accent sounded much better in the less-scratchy voice "Take me home, country roads?" He was going to attempt some eye-contact, everyone stand back.
Back then-- back now, even, Aries had eyes the color of a dirty penny, and hair the color of dishwater. And there he was, second basin' it with a business man in a suit. A suit. "Do you want to show me around?"
4 of us.
He brushes Aries’ hair tenderly back from his temple.
“Pretty recently, yes. I could definitely show you around though. I could even, uh, take you home via Los Angeles roads. To my place. If you wanted, that is. I’d take you to Vault-Tec, but I’m a little worried I might accidentally get wrapped up in the onboarding process. I’m worried you might not find that very entertaining.”
CURSES i missed an italic tag.
He sits up, slowly detangling himself from Bud, while grinning like he was just told they were going to Nuka World. "--I don't wanna go to Vault-Tec! Your house? We can go to your house? I can see your stuff? I mean, physical... stuff, uh I mean your belongings." They always say you can't take it with you and they were WRONG.
Even more bolt upright, sniffing before nearly bellowing, "Do you have pajamas?" His sinuses felt weird, anyhow. Why would he remember hay fever? Aries tries to remember if he had allergies, or is his brain remembering what it felt to breathe easier.
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“Yes? A lot of it is still in boxes. But I’d be happy to have you over. Maybe I can remember us some cocktails. …Even though it’s technically about eight-thirty in the morning.”
Bud remembers allergies all the time, and he doesn’t even have a nose.
“And yes, I have pajamas. They should fit you too.”
Pajamas are modular like that.
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"Cocktails," Aries pulls a face, incredulous, "When you can be unpacking? With me? In your pajamas?" That was a little presumptuous of Aries, wasn't it? "Unless you want to remember cocktails. Do you think this place will sell us a whole banana cream pie??"
Not a sex thing, it would just really hit the spot after living through the end of the world.
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Unpacking seems a little futile: everything in those boxes was unpacked long ago, and most of it has since likely been destroyed by Nuclear bomb. But Bud gets why Aries is so intrigued by the idea: it’s a chance to get know and see Bud in a way he would otherwise never be able to. It’s intimate, letting someone go through your possessions. Bud trusts that Aries won’t hold the plethora of Cooper Howard related merchandise against him. He chuckles at Aries’ request. It vibrates pleasantly in his chest and belly in a way that the Rollerbrain can’t replicate.
“I don’t see why not. Do you want anything else? Maybe I’ll get apple too.”
You know, in memory of America.
sorry i got carried away there
Aries forces himself to get up, because if he doesn't, he will just be blocking Bud from leaving the booth forever.
Over to the counter he strides, gazing into the well-lit case. Everything was vivid and beautiful and slightly ... scary. Maybe Bud didn't get a good look over this way?
"Bag up all these pies, my fri-- my BOYfriend and I are taking them ...home." Ooh, tingly. The universe kept trying to squash Aries and he continued on. He thought he'd die alone-- he was alone but didn't die. He was desperate for friends and family-- Carver showed up on the Blue Caravan routes just like Aries thought he would.
And now, he's having a very vivid hallucination that he has a rich boyfriend. A rich boyfriend who needs help unpacking his Cooper Howard stuff. They both had their eccentricities, ah yes, but Bud works hard so that Aries can focus on his inventions. You know he invented Post-It Notes??
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boing~
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the d club is his cousin stuff
Put a hat on that wolf
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writing gay porn is always like 'he his hand his he hand arm he'
Man door hand hook car penis
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no one here has a foot fetish, bud, calm down
But does anyone have a ‘your boyfriend looks like a dork because he’s naked except for socks’
don't think i didn't notice
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you almost linda ronstadt'd me there
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