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What the hell was the point of having a prom in vault 101?
Chase had been asking himself this question for weeks. He had concluded that it was for a few reasons; the main being that if the vault was going to survive long enough to be able to “repopulate the wasteland”, they would need to start repopulating the actual vault. Prom was an excuse for horny teenagers to realize how bad they might want to have unprotected sex with each other. The overseer might not ever say it in those terms, but that was the reality of it all.
Another reason was probably to reinforce some semblance of bullshit gender stereotypes amongst the rebellious youth. All the girls were given dusty old dresses, and the boys were instructed to give their dates flowers that had stemmed from the carrots grown in the vault greenhouse. It made Chase feel sick to his stomach.
Other than the very obvious, somewhat sinister ulterior motives of the event, he was looking forward to it. Attendance was mandatory anyways, so he really had no choice, but maybe it would be fun. Amata was excited to do her makeup and spend the night with him outside of her father’s prying eyes. It was a bonus that they got to watch Butch Deloria do everything in his power to get out of attending all evening.
When they shut the doors of the common room on the group of extremely uninterested sixteen year olds, Butch was the first to let out a loud moan and hide in a corner with his lackeys, Paul and Wally. Chase and Amata had taken a table to themselves, though they were more than happy to welcome anyone else to sit with them. The only one who took them up on the offer was Freddie, who cautiously sat across from the two and made polite conversation. Butch stared a hole in the back of his head the entire time they spoke, and Chase assumed it was because he planned to torment Freddie later on for making nice with them.
“This is so awkward,” Amata had told the two of them. “No one wants to even dance with each other. I think this might be the dumbest idea my dad’s had yet.”
Freddie shrugged. “I dunno. It’s kind of cool. We get to drink that punch they only bring out on Overseer’s Day. At least I think that’s kind of cool.”
Amata nodded, immediately changing her tune when she realized Freddie was actually happy to be here. She had been very agreeable when it came to Freddie lately, and Chase had no doubt it was because she was harboring a crush on him, though she would never admit that out loud. He didn’t really blame her - he had felt the same way for a few years. Freddie spent a lot of time at the clinic, and would eat dinner with Chase and his dad some nights. He was nice. And cute. Chase hated that he found him cute. Amata at least had a chance with Freddie, so Chase was willing to let her have this one.
“The punch is cool as long as Butch doesn’t spike it again,” Chase butted in to complain. He had noticed the boy in question staring in their direction from across the room now, like a dog eyeing his next meal. Butch was sitting on the face of the table they had claimed, while Wally was laying on his back on the seat below him. Paul, the nicest of the group, seemed to be off speaking to Susie and her friends, uninterested in brooding like his two companions.
Chase met Butch’s eyes and glared at him, locking himself in a hateful staring match with his enemy. When Butch realized the game they were playing, he laughed to himself and winked in Chase’s direction. Unfortunately, this tactic worked well against Chase; he turned red and immediately looked back to his friends.
Amata and Freddie seemed almost exclusively interested in each other now, both enthusiastically talking about how much they loved the cake they were served last Overseer’s Day now. Chase was practically invisible. He tried to pretend that it didn't hurt his feelings. He didn’t want to place blame on Amata - she rarely got to enjoy herself, and if she was having fun it was almost mandatory Chase be included. He wanted her to have a good night with the boy she had a crush on. It definitely stung that Freddie was that boy, though.
Chase fiddled with his sleeves and occasionally nodded while the other two spoke, until he got so bored he decided he would get them all some of the punch they were so excited about. Butch seemed to be waiting for him to stand so he could follow him there. He was only a few steps behind when Chase made it to the bowl.
“Lookin’ sharp, nosebleed,” Butch teased, elbowing Chase in the shoulder when he came up behind him.
Chase rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Butch.”
Butch snorted a laugh before looking around the room and reaching in his jacket pocket. Officer Gomez was on duty tonight, and he was practically sleeping at the door. Butch took the opportunity to yank out a flask and pour it into the punch bowl.
“Are you serious?” Chase smacked his hand and splashed some of the booze onto the table. It smelled like whiskey. More accurately, it smelled like Butch’s mom. He could take a pretty accurate guess where Butch got the liquor.
“What the hell man!?” Butch hastily went to wipe the spilled liquid. “Quit bein’ a killjoy.”
“You’re such a fuckin’ loser,” Chase shook his head. He made sure that he hadn’t drawn attention to them as well, before shoving his own cup in front of Butch. “How about you pour some extra in here so the people who actually want to get drunk can?”
The irritated look on Butch’s face turned to a smug one, and he bit his lip. “Oh, so you want to hog all my booze? Why should I let you drink for free?”
“Because I’ll tell on you if you don’t.”
“Snitch,” Butch shook his head but complied with Chase’s request, pouring an extra shot in his cup. “Why are you so antsy to get wasted anyway? Your girlfriend decided she wants to sneak off in the supply closet with the freak instead?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chase reiterated. He had told Butch this more times than he could count on all of his fingers, but the teasing didn’t stop. “Why are you trying to get everyone else wasted? Hoping Wally will put out for you if he’s drunk enough?”
“Wally? He’s already got a stick up his ass, don’t think he’s looking for anything else up there.”
The joke made Chase spit out his drink. He had no clue Butch had a sense of humor, especially when it came to his fellow “gang members”. Chase wiped the liquid from his chin and tried to suppress his laughter. Butch looked smug staring down at him, like he’d accomplished something by making him laugh.
Chase pinched his thumb into his palm to scold himself for finding Butch handsome in that moment, and decided to change the subject to avoid any other sinful thoughts about the other boy. “True. Don’t think anyone in the vault would be very happy about you two getting it on anyway.”
Butch raised an eyebrow. “Why? Cause they’d be losin’ out on a catch like me?”
“God, no,” Chase frowned back at him. “The whole point of us being here is because they want the girls to jump the boys. Haven’t you noticed?"
Butch shrugged. There was no way he could have ignored the push for the “Procreation Project” that had followed them around for the last few years of their lives. His nonchalance was more of a defense mechanism than ignorance. It was interesting for Chase to see him be vulnerable in any way, though, so he was curious to see what information he could get out of this. “Who do you think you’re gonna end up with?”
Butch looked offended. He scoffed. “I’m not getting suckered into being with any of these chicks. If I’m not outta this hole by the time I’m twenty just shoot me dead is what I say.”
The two boys had their backs to the punch table now, and were looking out at their peers in the room with them. Butch had taken his eyes off of Chase, opting to look anywhere in the room that wasn’t at the shorter boy next to him. He sipped his drink slowly, probably hoping Chase wouldn’t press further.
“Okay, whatever. But if you had to end up with someone in this room, who would it be?” Chase pressed further.
Butch became annoyed enough that he looked back down at Chase, gritting his teeth. “Will you quit it? Who do you think you’re getting stuck with then, huh?”
Chase shrugged. “Probably Amata.”
“Thought she wasn’t your girlfriend.”
“She isn’t.”
Butch shook his head and scrunched his nose in confusion. “You don’t make any god damn sense.” He pushed himself off the table and took a few steps back towards his table, but spun around to give Chase a proper goodbye - which was peculiar in itself. “If you need any more ‘punch’ you know where to find me, nosebleed.”
Chase nodded in response, offering an apprehensive but polite smile. It didn’t strike him how odd the interaction was until Butch had made it back to his table and was kicking Wally awake to offer him a swig from his flask. Chase watched him intently, tracking the way he collapsed back into his seat and sighed, keeping an eye on him until it was obvious he was staring. Even still, Butch met his gaze and held it. It was tense, and Chase couldn’t figure out why he felt so heavy after their conversation. He decided if he didn’t stop staring he would make a bad decision, so he made his way back to Amata.
Freddie had been apprehended by some girls, so Amata sat alone now. She brushed the skirt of her dress down to her knees and swung her feet while she waited, looking lovesick all by herself. Her pretty face lit up when she noticed Chase was back.
“Was Butch harassing you again?” She questioned, reaching for one of the cups in his hand.
Chase glanced back at Butch to see if he was still staring at him - he definitely was. It was like he had been under surveillance all night, actually. It was hard to focus on anything but the way Butch was sizing him up.
“Something like that,” Chase nodded.
Before he could react, Amata was spitting out the punch and gagging. He looked to his hands and realized she had accidentally grabbed his cup, which was more than half full with whiskey.
“That’s disgusting - are you seriously getting drunk tonight?” She wiped up the table and shoved the tainted punch away.
Chase shrugged. He knew Amata had no intention to tell on him, but he still was a bit embarrassed to be caught red handed by her.
“Butch spiked the whole bowl. I got this one before he tainted the supply. Sorry,” he shoved the other cup her way.
She shook her head but didn’t press further.
“So,” Chase changed the subject, but made sure to throw back a large gulp of his whiskey-punch before proceeding. It stung his throat and made him feel like gagging. “You absolutely have a crush on Freddie.”
Amata smacked his arm and looked around as if someone would be listening in, ready to use the information as blackmail. She was always so cautious. “I do not. He’s just the only nice boy in our age group. You know that.”
Chase nodded. “You should ask him to dance with you.”
Now she was pouting at him. “Chase,” she sighed, shaking her head. “That’s not fair. I… I don’t want to do that to you.”
“To me?” He scoffed, like he had no idea what she could possibly mean. Underneath it all, he appreciated her caring enough to try and suppress her feelings on his behalf. Chase loved how thoughtful she was, it was probably his favorite thing about her. But it had no place here - Chase had plenty of reasons to never bring up his crush on the other boy. Mainly, he was pretty sure a boy who only liked other boys was not going to make it long in vault 101. Especially when he had no other redeeming qualities aside from knowing how to take apart an old terminal and make an electric-shock trap from its parts. On top of that, Freddie was clearly not interested in him. That didn’t matter much to him anyways - he really only thought Freddie was cute and friendly, but he also thought he was a bit boring. There weren’t a lot of respectable options when it came to crushes in the vault.
“Amata, I am begging for you to dance with him. Then make out with him. Then tell me all about it,” Chase continued, grabbing her hand and squeezing.
She smiled at the thought, turning pink. “I just wish he’d ask me. I feel like a real loser asking him first.”
Freddie would never be the one to approach her for a dance, a date or even a pencil in class. Chase knew him well enough to know he was too painfully anxious. “That’s just how he is. He’s gonna swoon if you ask him, though. He’ll think it’s hot.”
“You’re so weird,” she laughed at him. “It’s fine anyways. I’m used to being the assertive one, I guess. What are you gonna do in the meantime?”
Chase licked his lips and leaned back against the bench. “I will be happily watching.”
“Perv,” She stuck out her tongue at him. “Have fun watching him step on my toes then. Love you. I’ll find you right after.”
“Love you too,” he nodded as she left, accepting his fate on the bleachers. He didn’t know why he felt so sour - Amata had every right to have fun, and Chase really wasn’t interested in dancing. It just didn't feel good to be alone at prom, he supposed.
The feeling of eyes on him once again made him put a hold on his wallowing, and he looked over at Butch. He was alone at his table now, a perfect mirror to Chase. Wally had been dragged away by his sister it seemed, and no one was jumping at the opportunity to hang out with the biggest bully in the vault. It might have made Chase feel bad for him, if he didn’t remember the way his head got dunked in the water fountain by him last week.
The two boys were locked in a staring contest by that point, challenging each other to be the first to look away. The look on Butch’s face made Chase feel sick, like his stomach had done a flip. He couldn’t explain the feeling if he tried. The drink he had now finished was probably contributing to his dizziness, and he was radiating heat from his face. He decided to go to the bathroom to splash some water in his face, and to escape the hungry stare of Butch Deloria.
When he approached his reflection in the bathroom mirror he sighed to himself. He was bright red from his neck to his cheeks, and his green eyes had become glassy and tired. Amata had done what she could to beautify him while they got ready earlier, straightening his ugly little bow-tie and pushing his hair out of his eyes with some gel. The more she tried to fix him up, the more uncomfortable he felt though. He raked his fingers through his hair and loosened his tie while he looked in the mirror, trying to feel more like himself - he was starting to regret the decision to drink tonight.
Despite everything that could possibly be on his mind, he couldn’t help but see images of Butch in his head. The way he stared at him all night, like he wanted to devour him, was haunting Chase. Butch always looked at him like he wanted to get a few punches in on his face, but tonight it was something so different. He was fidgeting his fingers and biting his lip, scanning down Chase’s chest and neck and what he swore were his lips. He was making jokes and being somewhat pleasant. It was scaring Chase. He didn’t want to go home on prom night with Butch in his head - that was a recipe for disaster.
The bathroom door opening behind him snapped him out of his trance. He caught a glimpse of Butch entering through the mirror, though he approached the sink next to Chase and pretended he wasn't even there. That didn’t stop Chase from watching his every move.
“So we meet again,” Butch mocked, flashing a smile. “You want another drink?”
Despite his better judgment, Chase nodded and stuck his hand out to take the flask. Butch had pulled out a new container, a small canteen with “101” written on it. It housed a much larger quantity of whiskey, so Chase drank down as much as he could.
“Damn, nosebleed,” Butch chuckled before taking his own swig. “Bad night, huh?”
Chase nodded once more. He was feeling just inebriated enough to vent his frustrations to Butch, though he knew he would regret it tomorrow. He grabbed the canteen and took another sip. “I don’t fit into this equation.”
Butch raised his eyebrow. He was confused.
“Sorry. Big words no good for Butch, I forgot.”
Butch snatched the canteen back and scowled at his drinking buddy. “Fuck you. I know what equation means, I just don’t know what kind of mysterious bullshit you’re saying.”
Chase conceded - he was being cryptic. “I don’t fit in in this fucking hole. I’m not interested in procreation, or my GOAT exam, or any of this shit.”
It was a sentiment that he was hoping Butch could relate to. If he knew anything about the other boy, it was that he wanted nothing more than to leave the vault. He had no idea what was on the other side of that big metal door, but Chase assumed he had to at least feel similarly to want out that bad.
“Yeah,” Butch sighed. “I get you.”
This might have been the first time they were seeing eye to eye, and Chase couldn't have been happier. It was refreshing to speak so candidly with someone - as much as Amata was his confidante, she was also the overseer’s daughter. Butch hated it all just as much as him, and definitely wouldn’t accidentally let any secrets slip to the overseer.
“Why don’t you ever stick it to the man? Give ‘em something to panic about?” Butch questioned him, inching closer to the shorter boy. He still held his gaze through the mirror, so Chase had a perfect view of both of their faces. Butch wore that mischievous grin he always had on, but it seemed more devious than usual because Chase was so disheveled in front of him. The liquor and the sight of Butch flashing him a toothy smile, wearing his dumbass leather jacket over a dress shirt and a poorly put together tie was making Chase unbelievably susceptible to the teasing. He stood like he was in a trance, staring back at their reflections. “Don’t think I would be rebelling in the same way you do,” he admitted.
Butch closed another few inches between them. Chase could reach out and grab his arm with little effort now. He felt insane, but could have sworn Butch was flirting with him.
“All I know,” Butch breathed, like he was holding in the air in his lungs while they stared at each other. “Is it would feel damn good to throw a wrench in that stupid procreation plan, you know?”
Chase turned his head to look directly at Butch now, and the other boy followed suit. He jumped over a few mental hurdles and determined that he was either much more drunk than he thought, or Butch was absolutely flirting with him. Shamelessly.
Chase didn’t have the common sense left to stop himself from flirting back. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“You tell me, nosebleed.”
Fuck. They were only inches from each other’s faces now, so close that Chase could smell Butch’s whiskey breath ever so faintly. His blue eyes were scanning over Chase’s features, looking for any cue to lean in and kiss him.
Chase beat him to the punch. He haphazardly reached up and grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him down and feeling the impact of Butch’s teeth against his own. Chase had never kissed anyone like this before - he had barely kissed anyone in general. This was hot and hasty and felt so weird.
Chase was surprised to feel Butch leaning into it instead of pulling away; he grabbed Chase’s hips and held him steady to prevent his drunken sway from knocking the pair over. Chase appreciated that, but needed to pull back after a few moments anyways. The room was spinning.
“I’m sorry,” Chase offered a sincere apology. “I shouldn't have done that.”
Butch looked like he was losing something dear to him suddenly. His eyes darted back and forth and he didn’t let go of his hold on the boy in front of him. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. “Do it again.”
“What?” Chase laughed to himself, because there was no way this was real.
“Please.” Butch begged, eyes wilting and voice desperate.
It was enough to melt him into a puddle. Somehow every battle of the war they had waged against each other since childhood was forgotten, and Chase desperately wanted to lock lips with his sworn enemy. All it took was a flask’s worth of whiskey and some ill-fitting party attire to get him to this point, too. He would certainly look in the mirror and hate himself for it later.
Right now, he was too focused on standing on his toes so he could reach Butch’s mouth again. He wrapped his arms over the other boy's shoulders and dove back in, more eager than before.
Butch tasted good. He was tall, and he used his hands in a way that made Chase’s knees weak. He couldn’t help but think that Freddie Gomez would be too nervous and meek to grab his ass and push him against the sink like Butch was doing. He wouldn’t bite his bottom lip and pull his hair like this either. Somehow, Butch was fulfilling every wishful fantasy that Chase had zoned out to while bored in math class. It was kind of impressive.
“Holy shit,” were the words that finally pulled them apart, spoken by Officer Gomez standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide and terrified, like a crime had occurred right in front of him.
Butch and Chase separated immediately, acting like the magnetic pull between them had suddenly flipped and was repelling them with a force. Chase curled into himself, and Butch turned his back and paced, running his palm over his face. He still had spit on his lower lip, and he was bright red. There was no explaining this one.
Neither boy wanted to be the first to speak, but Chase could see Butch racking his brain for an excuse. He finally spit in Chase’s direction after a few seconds of painful silence. “Yeah, and I’ll give you a worse beating than that if you say some shit like that to me again.”
It was a sorry attempt. Chase was more embarrassed watching him try to cover for them than he was for actually getting caught. He didn’t dignify the cover-up with a response, instead he decided to look at Officer Gomez with pleading eyes. He could only pray that his reaction would not lead to something terrible for the both of them.
Gomez cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes. “I’m… We’re all going to pretend this didn’t happen, okay? I was never here.”
Chase nodded, and felt all the fear leave his body. He could not have been more grateful that Freddie’s dad was the one to find them in this position, if anyone had to.
They had very narrowly avoided a beating, or even worse - a week-long disciplinary course. Chase shivered at the thought.
Gomez turned on his heel and exited the bathroom as quickly as he came. The door shut and Chase looked to Butch, who was beside himself. He looked sick to his stomach and confused.
Chase didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
Butch shook his head. He stood completely still for a few moments, with his hands on his hips and eyes on the floor. Chase was bracing himself for whatever reaction Butch might have. To his surprise, he didn’t start throwing punches or storm off, though - he started laughing.
He was borderline hysterical. It made Chase uncomfortable. “What’s so funny?”
Butch could not get words out through the laughter. He grabbed his knees to hold himself, trying not to fall on the floor. “I can’t believe we did that.”
This was not amusing to Chase in the slightest. “No shit. And we’re never doing it again.”
Butch settled himself but let a few aftershocks of laughter out while he smiled in Chase’s direction, smug as he could be. Chase wanted to punch him again.
“You’re not too good at that yet. Need to work on it some more.” Butch teased. He must have been trying to turn Chase bright red, and it worked well.
“You’re an asshole,” Chase retaliated.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Butch threw his hands up in surrender. “You know where to find me when you want to get some practice in.”
Chase stumbled over words and blushed while Butch exited the room. He wasn’t able to get a coherent sentence out before Butch was gone, and he wasn’t able to think of the right thing to say for hours after the incident either. All he could do was walk back out into the common room and act like nothing had ever happened.
Amata intercepted him on his walk back to their table and grabbed his arm, playfully spinning around him. It made him dizzy, but he smiled at her regardless.
“Freddie sucks at dancing. I thought you were gonna watch?” She giggled at him.
Chase shrugged. An excuse for his absence was not coming to mind.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re back. I’m sick of worrying about boys.”
Chase couldn’t agree more.