(1111 Words, SFW, Established Relationship, Dadding, Fluff?)
A/N: It’s technically seventeen minutes since @losebetter ‘s birthday ended, but I am the Slowest Human Being and my writing brain likes to hide until the end of the day. So, here’s this. I’ve had the idea for like - a month or so now, having come from the fact that I, just like a five-year-old child, cannot draw. Not to mention Rook is The Best Dad, and Dog is The Best Weird Internet Uncle.
In short, here’s a kinda not-great, very rusty Fallout fic featuring the Wasteland’s best dad in order to celebrate one of my favorite people. Happy birthday, sweet pea! :D<3
MacCready carried the crayons around for months. They were nothing special—the paper sleeves were faded, the tips crushed in the small, plastic wrapper. A handful of old, slightly deformed lumps of wax he’d found beneath the counter of a dinner he and Rook had swung through looking for any untouched canned goods for diner one night. It hadn’t been an immediate thought—to pick them up and tuck them into the breast-pocket on his shirt. It had taken a few seconds and Rook calling his name, but they’d found their way there, a quiet, subtle hope for the future.
Now, they’re spread out on the floor of their home, well-used and stubbly, as Duncan scratches away at the latest in a series of drawings. The paper sleeves are gone, for the most part, torn away as the crayons became shorter and shorter, shrunken by Duncan’s constant desire to document his thoughts by the way of pictures that he would pass along to one of the other three people in the house.