Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout. Dammit.

Note: Rated M for language...and possibly other things. *cough* yeah.

Also, I want to warn about possible OOC-ness. I tried hard...really. But if doesn't sound like Butchie's talking to you, do tell me. And uh... I am having a writer's block. I hate whatever I've been writing so far. And if you hate/like it do review. Let me know. I appreciate constructive criticism.

Anyway, onwards. Enjoy. Thanks for reading.

He's gonna blame this on Knoxxie. Sure. He's the best friend Butch ever had, better than that traitor shit Wally, but - Fuck that. It was totally the Nosebleed's fault. Like everything else. Yeah, man. Butch-man's gonna have his ass the next time he visited. Butch could live in Rivet City for the rest of his life without knowing that the Chief was a fucking tin can, but no. The fucker decided to haul him along when he told the Chief 'Yo, chief. You're a tin can.'

Okay, so, Knoxxie didn't say that. He was kind and nice and polite and all the psychological shit that Butch didn't have the care for. Knoxxie was a fucking hero. And well, he really was the best friend that Butch could ever ask for… Okay. What the fuck.

This was Knoxxie's fault. Period.

Cause everytime he saw the Chief now, he saw the robot. A robot. Sure. Chief was badass. He had seen the fucker take out a whole raider horde with his gun alone. (Butch-man could do it too.) Still, a robot. That was pranking material there. Trouble making material. And, there was a shitload of questions running in his mind. Like was it real poop? Or… synthetic? Since ya know…he's a robot. A voice in Butch's head that sounded very much like Knox said 'He's a fucking android, dumbass.' Fuck off, Knoxxie. What's the difference, eh? A robot didn't bleed. So what if Chief bled? It ain't real blood. It's syn-the-tic.

"Can you please be gentle Mister Barber?"

"Shut up Wilks. I ain't Knoxxie." Yeah. Take that, ya little punk. "Now, hold still." The kid shut up and sat still. C J and James talked quietly at the other corner of the room.

"DeLoria." Oh fuck. Tin Can entered the room. What bad fucking timing. The kids greeted him. It was like being in the Vault and you had to say 'good morning, overseer' or some shit like that. No way was he gonna greet the chief like that.

"What is it, Chief?"

"Is there trouble?"

"Sure. But I ain't the one makin it'." Yeah. Take that Tin Can. Chief continued to stare at him as he worked on Bryan's hair. After years of being under Vault surveillance, Butch could feel that same stare trained at him. Sure. Tin Can looked relaxed and fine, but that watchful eye was skimming just under the surface of his skin. He was looking for something. Tin Can had been like this since that little talk they had with Knoxxie and that was what? Three weeks ago. What the fuck did Tin Can want from him, dammit? This place was way out of his patrol route. If he didn't know better, Tin Can seemed to want to talk to him or something. FUCK. Was he in trouble? No. He hadn't done anything! Butch was already disappointing himself by being a goody-two-shoes like Knoxxie. Any more 'staying-in-line' and Butch was gonna have to change his name to Amata. Or something uncool. "What you want, Chief? A cut?" Yeah. Sure. Like hair grew on a tin can. He snorted at his own joke. Chief raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything until Bryan thanked Butch and the children left. The room was quiet with their calm breathing.

"When did you leave the vault?" Chief suddenly asked. Butch, who was actually about to doze off turned to see the small little smirk the Chief had on his face. Heck. Tin Can even had that face when he was taking a dump. What's wrong with him? Oh he's a robot. That's what. Android.

"Uh…I don't know." Butch noted the way Chief watched him. Yep. He knew that look. It was the one Dumbass Gomez always gave him when something happened in the Vault. Sure, he did cause a lot of trouble in the Vault. It wasn't all the time, though. This time, he didn't do shit. "Look man, I didn't do shit," he blurted. Chief stared him up and down then sighed before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a rusty tin can. A yellowed scrap of paper was glued onto it and on it were the words 'From Butch-man' scrawled in red.

Fuck.

Sure he remembered making that 'gift' now. Like in this fucking moment when it was shoved into his face.

"Explain how I found this in my room," Chief said.

"I don't know, man. Did you step on it?"

"Actually it was on my cot. I meant: explain how it came to be in my room."

"Erm… Someone threw it? You made it yourself?" Butch played with the zipper on his tunnel snake jacket. "It's fuckin' ugly, ya know."

"Why would I make this and write your name on it?"

"Ummm… well…ya know… people do stupid things when they're drunk…"

"I don't get drunk." Butch met his steely gaze now and returned the hard stare wondering if Chief didn't drink alcohol or if he couldn't get drunk cause he was well, a tin can and all. "Were you drunk?" Yes. Dammit. Butch had been drunk alright. Butch coughed in response.

"Maybe."

"But still not drunk enough because you managed to enter my room." Oh. Fuck. He was very fucked. "Which makes me think, you either have the duplicate key to my room or you have picked the lock before. And I doubt Vera would let you near any of the keys."

"Sure."

"Why do you want to gain access in the first place?" Butch stared long and hard at the chief who wasn't taking his eyes off him. It was a good question. He didn't know the answer to it. "You didn't take anything. Only left me this."

"Shit, Chief. Why are ya so sure it's me anyway? Could've been Paulie."

"Was it Paulie?"

"No." Chief's smirk hardened. Butch felt the familiar thrill of annoying a person of authority. "What's the big deal, anyway?"

"You keep up this smart-ass attitude, and you're gonna wind up floating face-down in the river," Chief threatened. Butch knew enough to know that Wastelanders like the Chief meant that. He bared his fangs then faced the ceiling. "You intruded my room. And tampered wit-"

"I didn't tamper with none of your shit." Chief stared at him. Butch stared back. The smirk widened.

"So, you don't deny you were in my room." Butch raised an eyebrow and returned the smirk in what he knew was a 'challenging' look. "To give me a gift, no less."

"Yeah, yeah. What's it to you?" Tin Can suddenly stood up and put the 'gift' back into his pocket. He turned his smirk into a rare smile. Then he stepped out of the room.

"Did you remember leaving a note in the can?" Fuck. Butch saw him still smiling that same smile before he walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.

This was all Knoxxie's fault.