Fic: Retirement (Snake/Otacon; PG12)
Title: Retirement
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Pairing: Snake/Otacon
Rating: PG12 for slash
Dedication: Happy Christmas daniela_lynx!
Summary: Settling down is easier than it seems.
"Snake?"
Snake didn't have much to say about Hal's tone of voice of late; didn't need to. It was written all over his friend's face, that slight worry that maybe Snake wouldn't respond this time; that it would be too late.
Couldn't blame him, but still. It got tiring. "Mm?"
"Sunny's been making pancakes. They've turned out pretty good, you know?" Long pause, and Snake took the opportunity to have another drag of his cigarette. "Do you wanna come in, or I could bring some out for you?"
"Sure. Coffee'd be good too."
"Yeah," Hal agreed, and Snake ignored the undertone of 'anything you want'. He was a dying man, felt it already, but didn't need to be told it over and over.
Still, nice to know someone cared.
He remembered the first time Hal brought him coffee. First mission they'd planned out as Philanthropy, and it had gone well enough... at first. Hal's source hadn't been quite as trustworthy as he'd thought.
To give him something to do between apologising Hal had plied him with caffeine, which, while well intended, did mean that for about a week Snake had pissed like a racehorse and been wholly incapable of sleeping properly.
Still, it was the thought that counted, and to avoid caffeine poisoning he decided to forgive Hal verbally. It was a little weird to have to do so, but for all Hal's scientific expertise he wasn't really a soldier and still needed words to reassure him of his position.
The coffee had eased up, but never really dried up. Probably a programming thing; they'd named a language after coffee after all, hadn't they? Then again, given he'd heard that story off Hal, whether it was the truth or not was debatable.
Same as he remembered the first time Hal brought him coffee, he remembered the first time he'd reversed the situation and brought coffee to Hal. The way they were with one another, he'd always expected the first time would be in the middle of one of Hal's all-night computing sessions, keeping him going with a constant stream of expressos - and there was an unending source of amusement, that Hal was capable of drinking coffee black when the very idea of touching the stuff without milk turned his stomach.
Not the case. First time he ever brought Hal coffee was when he woke up with a stiff neck, a thumping headache, and his legs around Hal's waist. At first he'd thought fair enough, maybe it was just the cold; but the second he'd moved it was also pretty obvious that his boxers were unbuttoned and the dried white flakes on his stomach sure as Hell weren't from drool.
He couldn't think of anything smart to say about that, so he figured he could copy Hal; ply everyone with coffee and wait for them to fill in the gaps.
Thankfully, mornings after turned out to be the one time where Hal was more interested in being lazily affectionate and happily accepting anything given to him than he was interested in talking.
Also? Hal was a randy bastard in the morning, which came in pretty convienient given Snake didn't really have any words for "Can we keep doing this?".
They'd never really had a talk about it. Made life a lot easier in ways; meant they never had additional baggage when arguing, didn't throw in each other's faces who was meant to have done what with whom. They were just accidental friends, with accidental benefits.
Now Meryl and Johnny were married, SOP was over, Hal still had plenty of odd jobs lined up but truth be told, their war was more or less finished. Future generations would handle the clean-up, and God willing, with the war economies destroyed, maybe all the impossible hopes for a world without guns were a little less magnificently ridiculous.
Old soldiers like him could do what they'd been trained to do for years, even if it wasn't on a battlefield.
"Here," Hal announced, putting down an optimistically large plate of pancakes. "She's doing very well. I've been homeschooling her in social sciences; I think she's starting to understand more about... normal people."
Snake laughed despite himself, putting down the cigarette and helping himself to the coffee, figuring he could at least clean the taste of ash off his tongue with it before attempting any of the pancakes. "We're the only parents in the world who'd be proud of a seven year old sociologist."
"Shut up, Snake, it's a well-respected field these days," Hal snapped, taking a seat opposite Snake and stretching out.
Hard to resist making a crack about Hal getting crabby in his old age, but Snake held it in anyway. "She's making friends okay, huh?"
"She's been practising in chat rooms." Hal held up a hand before anything could be said, added, "And yes, we're being careful about who she talks to. She's a smart little girl anyway, wouldn't go anywhere without telling us first."
"She did a fair bit of work for Naomi without telling us," Snake reminded, but it was only a half-hearted sort of anger. He knew full well Sunny knew what she was doing, knew Hal's parenting skills would fill in the gaps.
Hal made a good father, even if Snake had only felt comfortable leaving him and Sunny alone together after making certain Hal was a decent shot with a rifle.
Easy enough to look imposing with a shotgun, but if anyone went after Sunny, something with a better kill rate from a distance was a better weapon to have at hand.
Or maybe that was just him.
"She's growing up fast."
"Yeah." Hal folded his arms. "I wish..."
"Me too," Snake cut across. He could give Hal that. Both of them wanted to see her graduation, her first kid, all the normal odds and ends. Wasn't going to happen for both of them, but it didn't change the fact they wanted it to. "You watch over her for me and Olga, right?"
"Yeah." Hal laughed despite himself then, something sad but almost content. "Sunny's the luckiest girl in the world. Two dads, two moms -"
"More, if you count the Patriots," Snake reminded.
"Yeah. But I'm going to be the best parent of all."
"Trained by the best," Snake agreed, before picking up one of the pancakes and rolling it up around the puddle of syrup and butter. Heart attack material, but as if he had to worry about that anymore. "You having any?"
"I'm good, thanks."
Snake bit into the pancake cautiously, and had to hand it to Naomi; she'd certainly given their girl a decent handle on cooking. Not that Hal or he couldn't cook, just that they'd been useless teachers.
He swallowed, considered the towering stack before him and the condiment-dripping roll between his fingers, and pushed the plate back into the middle of the table. There were bigger adventures than pancake mountains, but his stomach felt they could wait for hungrier days.
Hal seemed slightly relieved, took the opportunity to shift his chair closer and tilted his head towards Snake's. They weren't touching. Didn't really need to. "You good too?"
Maybe he shouldn't be; maybe it was unfair to say he'd done enough, that he'd stopped owing the world anything.
Didn't change the truth, though.
"Damn good."
The End
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Pairing: Snake/Otacon
Rating: PG12 for slash
Dedication: Happy Christmas daniela_lynx!
Summary: Settling down is easier than it seems.
"Snake?"
Snake didn't have much to say about Hal's tone of voice of late; didn't need to. It was written all over his friend's face, that slight worry that maybe Snake wouldn't respond this time; that it would be too late.
Couldn't blame him, but still. It got tiring. "Mm?"
"Sunny's been making pancakes. They've turned out pretty good, you know?" Long pause, and Snake took the opportunity to have another drag of his cigarette. "Do you wanna come in, or I could bring some out for you?"
"Sure. Coffee'd be good too."
"Yeah," Hal agreed, and Snake ignored the undertone of 'anything you want'. He was a dying man, felt it already, but didn't need to be told it over and over.
Still, nice to know someone cared.
He remembered the first time Hal brought him coffee. First mission they'd planned out as Philanthropy, and it had gone well enough... at first. Hal's source hadn't been quite as trustworthy as he'd thought.
To give him something to do between apologising Hal had plied him with caffeine, which, while well intended, did mean that for about a week Snake had pissed like a racehorse and been wholly incapable of sleeping properly.
Still, it was the thought that counted, and to avoid caffeine poisoning he decided to forgive Hal verbally. It was a little weird to have to do so, but for all Hal's scientific expertise he wasn't really a soldier and still needed words to reassure him of his position.
The coffee had eased up, but never really dried up. Probably a programming thing; they'd named a language after coffee after all, hadn't they? Then again, given he'd heard that story off Hal, whether it was the truth or not was debatable.
Same as he remembered the first time Hal brought him coffee, he remembered the first time he'd reversed the situation and brought coffee to Hal. The way they were with one another, he'd always expected the first time would be in the middle of one of Hal's all-night computing sessions, keeping him going with a constant stream of expressos - and there was an unending source of amusement, that Hal was capable of drinking coffee black when the very idea of touching the stuff without milk turned his stomach.
Not the case. First time he ever brought Hal coffee was when he woke up with a stiff neck, a thumping headache, and his legs around Hal's waist. At first he'd thought fair enough, maybe it was just the cold; but the second he'd moved it was also pretty obvious that his boxers were unbuttoned and the dried white flakes on his stomach sure as Hell weren't from drool.
He couldn't think of anything smart to say about that, so he figured he could copy Hal; ply everyone with coffee and wait for them to fill in the gaps.
Thankfully, mornings after turned out to be the one time where Hal was more interested in being lazily affectionate and happily accepting anything given to him than he was interested in talking.
Also? Hal was a randy bastard in the morning, which came in pretty convienient given Snake didn't really have any words for "Can we keep doing this?".
They'd never really had a talk about it. Made life a lot easier in ways; meant they never had additional baggage when arguing, didn't throw in each other's faces who was meant to have done what with whom. They were just accidental friends, with accidental benefits.
Now Meryl and Johnny were married, SOP was over, Hal still had plenty of odd jobs lined up but truth be told, their war was more or less finished. Future generations would handle the clean-up, and God willing, with the war economies destroyed, maybe all the impossible hopes for a world without guns were a little less magnificently ridiculous.
Old soldiers like him could do what they'd been trained to do for years, even if it wasn't on a battlefield.
"Here," Hal announced, putting down an optimistically large plate of pancakes. "She's doing very well. I've been homeschooling her in social sciences; I think she's starting to understand more about... normal people."
Snake laughed despite himself, putting down the cigarette and helping himself to the coffee, figuring he could at least clean the taste of ash off his tongue with it before attempting any of the pancakes. "We're the only parents in the world who'd be proud of a seven year old sociologist."
"Shut up, Snake, it's a well-respected field these days," Hal snapped, taking a seat opposite Snake and stretching out.
Hard to resist making a crack about Hal getting crabby in his old age, but Snake held it in anyway. "She's making friends okay, huh?"
"She's been practising in chat rooms." Hal held up a hand before anything could be said, added, "And yes, we're being careful about who she talks to. She's a smart little girl anyway, wouldn't go anywhere without telling us first."
"She did a fair bit of work for Naomi without telling us," Snake reminded, but it was only a half-hearted sort of anger. He knew full well Sunny knew what she was doing, knew Hal's parenting skills would fill in the gaps.
Hal made a good father, even if Snake had only felt comfortable leaving him and Sunny alone together after making certain Hal was a decent shot with a rifle.
Easy enough to look imposing with a shotgun, but if anyone went after Sunny, something with a better kill rate from a distance was a better weapon to have at hand.
Or maybe that was just him.
"She's growing up fast."
"Yeah." Hal folded his arms. "I wish..."
"Me too," Snake cut across. He could give Hal that. Both of them wanted to see her graduation, her first kid, all the normal odds and ends. Wasn't going to happen for both of them, but it didn't change the fact they wanted it to. "You watch over her for me and Olga, right?"
"Yeah." Hal laughed despite himself then, something sad but almost content. "Sunny's the luckiest girl in the world. Two dads, two moms -"
"More, if you count the Patriots," Snake reminded.
"Yeah. But I'm going to be the best parent of all."
"Trained by the best," Snake agreed, before picking up one of the pancakes and rolling it up around the puddle of syrup and butter. Heart attack material, but as if he had to worry about that anymore. "You having any?"
"I'm good, thanks."
Snake bit into the pancake cautiously, and had to hand it to Naomi; she'd certainly given their girl a decent handle on cooking. Not that Hal or he couldn't cook, just that they'd been useless teachers.
He swallowed, considered the towering stack before him and the condiment-dripping roll between his fingers, and pushed the plate back into the middle of the table. There were bigger adventures than pancake mountains, but his stomach felt they could wait for hungrier days.
Hal seemed slightly relieved, took the opportunity to shift his chair closer and tilted his head towards Snake's. They weren't touching. Didn't really need to. "You good too?"
Maybe he shouldn't be; maybe it was unfair to say he'd done enough, that he'd stopped owing the world anything.
Didn't change the truth, though.
"Damn good."
The End