Preston Garvey Week Day 2 - Rain
ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: September 2025
NOTES: One of several entries into Preston Garvey (Appreciation) Week over on Tumblr!
Deep, hearty barking filled the silence between the rolling waves of thunder. Paws scratched at broken asphalt, digging in as the canine rushed ahead toward the treeline. Just behind him, two pairs of boots followed. One pair was worn down by the weight of the world, carrying with them a robust sense of hope as his hat shielded the irradiated droplets from getting into his eyes. The other pair was fresher, worn only through exposure to this profound new environment; their owner raised his arm to shield his face, ducking and weaving the best he could. Stark streaks of lightning illuminated the path ahead, drawing the trio’s attention to the campsite.
Their hound was the first to settle, chestnut fur puffing outward as he shook the rainwater. He stationed himself by the fire, tucking war-torn paws beneath his head and looking up expectantly as the other two arrived. Gear dropped around him, only worth the subtle flick of his ear to ensure it dropped far enough away for him to stretch out.
“Wow, what a storm,” the first of the pair remarked, hands reaching up to peel the hat from his head and reveal the short, coiled hair beneath. He breathed out, setting the hat down on the stones and letting the fire work its magic.
The second of the pair looked out to the road ahead as he sat, tired hands reaching to offer the hound a courteous pet as he’d sat beside him. “No kidding, the Pip-Boy's geiger counter is going crazy… Must be rolling in from the Glowing Sea. Think we’ll be alright here, Preston?”
“Should be. The heaviest radiation always falls around Quincy. We’re close to the threshold but…” His voice trails, the name of his former home pressing its weight onto his tongue. He shakes his head. “Just keep an eye on it, yeah Shep?”
A nod. The silent fiddling of Shepard’s fingers as he sets the Pip-Boy’s screen to remain on the radiation tracker. “ ‘Course. Should still have some Rad-Away in the pack too, if it comes to it.”
“Good, good.”
Beyond the sounds of the Commonwealth, there was a comforting blanket of silence that fell over the trio. The rain poured; their fire crackled. The world around them seemed to vanish beneath the cloud cover as they sought their own, the pair of humans tucking themselves beneath the thick vinyl of the tent. Their hound lazily followed, standing to stretch his legs before tucking himself between them. Closing the minute space that the pair left in fear of the feelings such a proximity would bring. Each reached to pet the creature, fingertips brushing beneath the thick overcoat. The petting paused, albeit for a millisecond, before continuing. It was still long enough to initiate a spark, and enough for the hound to let out an amused chuff.
Minutes turned into hours, with the canine companion falling fast asleep between his counterparts. Preston eventually sat forward, resting his arms on his legs and idly watching the flames turn to embers. Shepard sat back, resting his weight onto his elbows and stretching his legs to watch the raindrops spill over the tent’s peak. That comfortable silence remained, only occasionally interrupted by the distant thunder.
Then it was broken by the older of the two, his stormy eyes finally resting on his human companion.
“Sounds like the weather’s starting to clear. Feelin’ alright?”
The other craned his head, peering over his shoulder with that deep, vibrant gaze. His head nodded. “Yeah… I’m good. You good?”
Another nod. A pause before a familiar feeling crept through old bones. “Just… tired.”
“Tired as in wanting to catch some sleep, or…?”
They had a language. A hesitance in describing their emotions stemming from the tumultuous lives they’ve lived. One thing after another, after another, making it impossible to stop and feel. It was only in moments like these that they really could. Shepard laid back, feeling the soft plush of the sleeping bag against aching muscles. It felt like heaven.
This felt like heaven.
“Definitely sleep. Wanna hunker down for the night and pick back up in the morning?”
The soft shifting of fabric was enough to clue him in on the answer. Soon enough–before he’d even finished asking, really–Preston entered his peripheral. He laid on his side, resting his cheek against his forearm.
“Sounds good to me… General.” A tease; he grinned.
Soft, warm laughter erupted from the pair, getting the hound’s attention once more. His head lazily rose, ears tilting before he returned to rest. His companions joined him, laying their heads down properly and allowing themselves to drift to the sound of the falling rain. To leave their world behind as the peeking sun set on the horizon. It was peaceful. A rare luxury for the trio, but one they would relish in for every second they could obtain it.