Chapter Text
Butch didn’t even like the way it tasted; he didn’t care about the difference between types, or what it was flavored with; all alcohol tasted like shoe polish to him.
He didn’t drink as much as he led people to believe, either. He was a teen in the vault- it made him seem cool to drink.
He mostly hated the idea of alcohol, it had long been poisoned to him by his mother- but every once in a while, it got to him, the desire to just not feel anything. If he drank it fast enough, plugged his nose and threw his head back to get it down as quick as possible, Butch could barely taste it.
That’s usually how he found himself here, sat in the doctor’s office while his least favorite goody two-shoes stared a hole into his head.
Eve’s eyes hadn’t left his face since she dragged him from the reactor where she found him to her father’s office.
He’d turned from her, preferring not to see the expression he knew she was wearing, and opted to just glare at the floor.
When her dad came in, James ushered Eve off to bed- it was late, Butch figured somewhere in the back of his head. His sleep schedule was fucked, anyway.
James grabbed a disposable cup, filling it from his office sink, and sat across from Butch, a weary sigh leaving his lips as he did so, and for a moment, neither said anything, the only movement being James’ arm to hand Butch the cup, and then his arm again when he retracted it.
When James opened his mouth to say something- a lecture, surely, -Butch cut him off.
“I know what you’re going to say, you don’t gotta bother.”
“Do you, now?”
“I know what you think- what everyone thinks. That I’m gonna end up just like my Ma; well I’m not, so you can just not even say it.”
Silence rested between the two for a moment again as James leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and clasping his hands together.
“Your mother isn’t the only one who struggles with drinking,”
“What, are you trying to say you do?” Butch scoffed. “Yeah, right, okay,” His face soured, like he’d been subjected to one of Wally’s crueler jokes.
James and Eve had always seemed annoying perfect; he was jealous, in a way, not that he’d ever admit that to either of them. Eve was missing a parent, just like him, and yet James seemed like enough for her. and for Butch, well, there would never be enough. There was always something missing.
“I’m serious.”
James’ face betrayed no sense of humor, his eyes never wavering from Butch’s.
“Oh, my worst days were before Eve was ever born-“ He stopped himself from saying ‘and after’, the days between her mother dying and their induction into the vault were some of the worst he’d ever had, but it wasn’t something he needed- wanted- to share.
“Without something to work on, it was all I could think about sometimes. It’s a slippery slope, son, is all I want to say.”
“I’m not your son.”
Butch had said this many times, James’ verbal habit had rubbed him the wrong way for years, though his retort didn’t have its usual malice when he said it this time.
“… and I’m fine.”
The doctor studied him for a moment, an emotion Butch couldn’t name danced across the older man’s face, before he leaned back in his seat once more.
“Alright,” he sighed. “You’re fine. but when you’re not, my door is always open. We don’t even have to let Eve know.”
There was a bit of a smile on his face now, creeping up where he couldn’t stop it. The feud between the two kids had simmered down a while ago for some unspoken, unknown reason- call it maturity, maybe, -but James still liked to toe the line between caring and teasing.
Butch couldn’t decide if it was genuinely annoying, or if it just reminded him of a father he didn’t remember. In the moment, though, it didn’t matter. Butch just drank from the stupid paper cup he was given, thinking about the information he’d learned and what he was supposed to do with it- James surely meant it to be a reason for Butch to confide in him, but it would take a little more than a shared vice to change 17 years of keeping everything close to his chest.