Fic: Partnership
Howdy! I feel brave enough to officially de-lurk and post a fic. Hope y'all enjoy!
Title: Partnership
Pairing: Snake/Otacon
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Word Count: 3800
Warnings: Slight language
Summary: Story takes place shortly after MGS1, following the start of Philanthropy and the growing relationship between Dave and Hal. Will be several chapters long, and have pron! in the future.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 2, Day 6
The black cords slithered across the floor, long and sinuous and eager to snare the unwary. They reluctantly joined up at the folding table in the corner, prongs snapping and fighting for space at the wall of laptops and monitors. Oblivious to their battle, Hal hunched over one particular screen, staring intently.
“Sna- er, Dave, I think I found something here.” He clicked the mouse and opened a few more windows, deftly hacking through firewalls and concealing his presence, careful to leave no trace of his intrusion.
Three weeks ago Hal had returned to the stark Alaskan wasteland, came back to the spacious cabin that the soldier called home. He dimly remembered staying the night here after the escape from Shadow Moses, but that memory was blurred under the ordeal’s exhaustion and devastation and discoveries that left him anxious and numb. Of course he’d been numb in a more insistent way from the snowmobile ride, too, with tiny icicles hanging from his gloves when he pried his fingers off Snake’s waist.
This time he had the chance to learn the layout of the house: how to navigate from the guest room to the bathroom, find his way around the kitchen in the middle of the night, even to carefully step across the workout room without stumbling into equipment and stubbing his toes. Despite its size, the dark wooden walls and abundant blankets gave the cabin an almost cozy feel. The home reflected a warmer side of the soldier, made it easier for Hal to remember that he too was human, that he wasn’t just the code name and medals and myths.
He had set up his fortress of electronics in the back corner of the living room. The fireplace across the room kept him warm without overheating his equipment, and the window next to the makeshift desk displayed an endless swirl of white, the never-ceasing Alaskan snowstorms somehow comforting; it was the kind of view he could stare into for hours, not really seeing, letting his mind work quietly in the background. Outside, the wind howled as it whipped up flurries of snow.
“What’d you find?” The rough voice answered from somewhere behind him. Hal gestured absently, absorbed in the data, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.
“Aaah! Geez, Dave, don’t scare me like that!”
He looked up at the soldier, his - friend? roommate? partner? - Yes, partner now, he thought - and tried to glare; all he managed was something between startled and indignant.
Dave stared impassively at him, but Hal noticed the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Hal suspected the soldier was amused, maybe even proud, that he had startled him. At least he’s not grabbing me by my jacket and shoving me against the wall anymore. I don’t need another lecture on how to be more aware of my surroundings.
He had been nervous at first, coming here and seeing Dave again. Three months lay between the last time they had seen each other, after the endless government briefings and nondisclosure agreements and quiet compensation. Three months and three thousand miles; New York had seemed the obvious place to go if he was interested in studying people. But the crowds just reminded him of how alone he was, how so few people could understand the nightmares he suffered, and the faces on the street kept morphing into ones of pain and death each time he thought about Metal Gear. Yet the interest in people, the bright new love for them, the need to protect them, burned fiercely in his soul. Finally, he had found his courage and reached out to the only man he felt he could trust.
During the long trip back, he’d had half a notion that Dave would take one look at him, change his mind about Philanthropy, and chase him back to the Fairfield airport. He was keenly aware that Dave was less than friendly at the best of times, and he was worried about how much unhappier the soldier had become after the falling out with that soldier girl.
He hated to admit it, but it was probably because of that broken relationship that Dave had even entertained Hal’s idea. He wondered if Dave only accepted his offer of partnership just to fill the void left by the spunky redhead.
Dave closed the empty space beside him now, leaning down and peering over Hal’s shoulder at the screen. He was close enough for the engineer to breathe in his scent - He smells like something foresty, musky, way too masculine - and Hal felt faintly embarrassed at even noticing.
Endless rows of numbers stared back at the partners from the screen, daring the duo to decipher their secrets. Dave frowned.
“What is all this?”
Hal pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose. “These are account invoices from an engineering firm in Houston, Omnitech. Their two primary modes of business are oil refinery and application, and military contracts.” He switched to a new window. “Here’s their budget payout for the past year. Everything seems steady up until about a month ago.” He highlighted a section of the chart onscreen. “Their spending suddenly ratchets up here, and there’s nothing in their project folders or current contracts to justify the increase in expenditures.”
“Maybe they have a few plans they want to keep quiet.”
“That’s just it, Dave - what are they hiding? I looked through their communications records, see-” he clicked on another window, “-and about two months ago they were in contact with an entity called ‘Blue Star.’ There’re no records of Blue Star anywhere I can find, and believe me I’ve looked; I think it’s some sort of front or dummy corporation.”
“So what did this Blue Star want?”
“I’m not completely sure. The firm erased almost all documentation of contact with them. However, there are traces of some sort of purchase. They bought something from Blue Star, Dave - for a hefty price - and then one month later their spending shoots through the roof with nothing to justify it.”
Dave looked sharply at the engineer. “You think Blue Star has something to do with Metal Gear.”
Hal nodded, pleased the soldier had caught on.
Dave straightened back up. “There’s not enough evidence. We can’t just run in on your suspicions alone; that’d be stupid. For all we know, they’re working on a new stealth plane, not a nuclear platform,” he said harshly.
The words stung, and Hal blinked rapidly; Did I do something wrong? “I- I know. I’m going to keep digging. I just, um, wanted to give you an update, you know, let you know what we might be doing soon.”
Dave was already heading back to the kitchen; he gave a noncommittal grunt. Hal returned his eyes to the laptop, feeling a little dejected.
“Hal?” Dave turned back, looking uncomfortable and running a hand through his hair. “Thanks. You’re- you’re doing good.” He held Hal’s gaze a moment, and swiftly stepped back through the doorway.
In the empty room, Hal flushed a bright red.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 3, Day 3
Dave pulled himself up one last time, the hard muscles in his arms contracting with a familiar burn, and slowly lowered himself back to the ground. He grabbed the dingy towel and swiped it over the bar above the doorway, wiping it clean of sweat. He’d spent an extra hour on his workout this morning since, he’d noticed, he had an audience. He could imagine Frank - Not that ninja-freak, the real Frank - chiding him for his vanity, or pride, or whatever the hell it was.
“I’m surprised you don’t pull the whole thing down.” Hal stood behind him, watching with interest.
The soldier shot him a glare, rolling his shoulders and stretching. “I’ve been doing this everyday for almost eight years. It’s not gonna come off.” He wondered when the last time was the engineer had worked up a sweat as he swung the towel around his neck and padded into the kitchen, barefoot. The engineer followed.
“I’m tracing where they’re wiring the funds. The majority is going out of state, but I’m not sure where yet. The program I’ve got running will take a while to compile all the data.”
Dave grunted and opened the fridge. The last bottle of vodka was tempting, but the past few months had made the oblivion offered by alcohol lose its appeal. He already had enough voices and memories in his head without the need for more spirits, literal or figurative. Instead he pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a swig right from the container.
Hal made a face. “You know, I’m living here too now. You should use a glass.”
Dave rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to get you sick - remember? Or do you have some disease I should know about?”
Hal quickly shook his head. “I just… nevermind.”
Dave looked at him. Even after Meryl’s brief stay, he still found it strange to share his house with another person. Although, he reflected, it won’t be for much longer. Even as Hal had unpacked his laptops and cords and accessories, he had been steadily putting away his own gear, selecting what would be useful in his new life and bundling away what he could leave behind.
He’d sold the dogs the day after Hal moved in. They had all gone to one owner, which was good - separating the mush pack would have destroyed the animals’ spirits. As he’d watched them go, face hard, he’d felt Hal’s eyes on him, and he’d nodded solemnly to the engineer, and they both knew in that moment that Philanthropy was real.
He couldn’t bring himself to sell the house. Not yet. For ten years it had been his refuge, and too many memories - good and bad - were locked away within its walls.
And now he was leaving. Well, he would be soon, once Hal found whatever this Omnitech was hiding. A decade of cold solitude, broken by ‘one last mission’ and revelation and ending now with the unsteady promise of safehouses and infiltration and impermanence.
And companionship.
He’d never admit it, but that was what hurt the most when Meryl left. I want to enjoy life now, he remembered telling her; I don’t want to live for the past. But she had been unable to let go of their time in Shadow Moses. She still saw him as a hero, as an idol, and refused to see just… Dave. Most of the time she still called him Snake, and he didn’t want the burden of that name outside the battlefield anymore, not with someone he felt so strongly for.
So she’d left, and once more all the warmth had seeped out of his life. The spectre of despair had been close; it’d have been so easy to return to the bottle and drink away his days in the haze of alcohol. He’d raged at Meryl, at himself, at the world, for teasing him with the promise of change and then jerking it back out of reach like some schoolyard bully. He was just a soldier after all, a tool, and one without a use.
But before he could get started anew on his downward spiral, a letter had arrived for him, like the answer to prayers he didn’t know he’d whispered. An idea, a hope, a purpose, all offered by a skinny otaku who knew nothing about battle and everything about sorrow. A strange savior indeed.
Hal rubbed his hands together, shivering a bit. Even the thick turtleneck sweater wasn’t enough to keep his lean frame completely warm.
Dave sighed. “You should put on more clothes, Hal.”
Hal tilted his head, smiling wanly. “Says the shirtless, barefoot man.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been keeping warm.” He ran the towel down his arms and chest, sweeping up the last droplets of sweat. “Maybe you should do the same. Put some muscle on you.”
Panic briefly flitted across Hal’s features. “N-no Dave - I’m not much of an athlete. I’m all brains, not muscle.”
Dave smirked. “Why not both?”
Hal avoided his gaze. “I’m not like you. I’m not good at physical stuff. That’s why I want you - um, I mean why I asked you to be the brawn. Well, I guess not really the brawn, since you’ll be sneaking and avoiding fights most of the time…” He kept his eyes on the floor, rambling.
Dave nodded. Self-confidence - he needs to work on that. “But you’re the other end of this operation, Hal,” he interrupted. He placed his hands on the engineer’s shoulders and squeezed, trying to instill some measure of confidence in the slighter man. He looked pointedly at Hal. “Both of us make this team. We do this together.”
The tech looked up at him, face cautious. “Right,” he said, slowly. He reached past Dave and grabbed the juice, contemplated a moment, and, looking Dave in the eye, took a long drink, finishing it off.
Dave grinned. “Not so bad, was it?” He clapped Hal on the back, grin widening as the engineer coughed. “We’ll have to share more than just juice. On the battlefield, you share your resources with your teammates - ammo, food, anything to survive.”
“But I’m not going to be on the battlefield, Dave - that’s the whole point!”
“Yeah, but we’re still partners. We support each other however we can.” The grin turned sly. “You get to buy the juice next time, though.”
This time Hal rolled his eyes. “You know,” he said, setting the empty carton in the trash bin, “watching your workout has made me think about the kinds of things you’ll be up against when we get started. While I’m waiting for the data to come through, maybe I can take a look at some of your equipment - see if I can make any improvements for you.”
Dave - Snake - could see the advantage in that. “I’ll bring some pieces to you. We’ll need to keep stealth, not raw firepower, in mind.”
Hal smiled. “Great! I’ll get started right away.”
He watched him leave the kitchen. Three weeks together, and the engineer didn’t look at him with hesitation, or unbridled idolatry, or worse, fear. He just called him Dave. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… free.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 4, Day 2
Hal approached his partner, who lay sprawled across the maroon couch that dominated the den, staring at the television with interest. One of the first things Hal had contributed to the household was repairing the antenna to receive cable. Though “repair” might be better described as “completely remodel” and “receive” as “pirate.”
Some man with a beret and a walrus mustache was chattering about exploding water heaters, punctuated by gratuitous pyrotechnics. And yes, that was definitely a subtle smile on the soldier’s usually stony face. Hal found himself smiling too. The past month had provided a first-hand education in the moods of Dave. He wasn’t sure where exactly he fell on the bell-curve, but he felt he was bringing his grade up at least past average. He made a note to remember what that program was and “acquire” it for the soldier later.
He knelt in front of the screen, blocking the view. Green eyes blinked, refocused, and settled on him, gaze piercing. The couch creaked slightly as his partner sat up. “Something you need?”
Hal held up a bundle of fabric and placed it on the soldier’s lap. “I thought, since the M9 modification went so well, that I could make a few alterations to your sneaking suit.” He leaned over, eyes gleaming and hands flitting across the smooth cloth as he pointed out the adjustments. “I stripped the old insulation and added a new lining on the interior; it’ll help keep your body at a constant temperature and mask any heat you give off. It still absorbs liquid like before, so you shouldn’t worry about getting wet or sweating too much. The suit’ll fit more snugly, though, so you’ll have to get used to that.” He held up the material. “The new lining meant I could get rid of the thermal vest. The suit is just one whole piece now and so I’ve added a harness for weapon and storage compartments.” He ran his fingers over the bands that fit across the torso.
Dave pushed Hal’s hands out of the way and lifted the suit up. His eyes roamed over it critically, lingering on the abundant straps. Finally, he looked up at his partner, tugged one of the straps, and quirked his eyebrow. “…Didn’t know you had that kind of taste, Hal.”
“D-Dave!” Hal sputtered, face instantly turning beet-red. He ducked his head and stared at the floor, missing the soldier’s smirk.
He couldn’t meet Dave’s eyes for the rest of the day.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 4, Day 5
Dave turned the volume up a little; the famous line was coming up. Hal sat cross-legged next to him on the couch, munching on the leftover popcorn and completely engrossed in the film.
He found it surprising that the tech had never seen the movie before. Then again, he thought, maybe his obsession with Japanese robots blinded him to American visions of them.
The television provided the only light, bathing them in an eerie glow. Dave watched Hal out of the corner of his eye, finding his reactions more interesting than the oft-seen movie. He noted how the engineer’s back and shoulders tensed and relaxed with the music cues. His gray eyes widened at every action scene, the flutter of his pulse at his neck speeding up. He licked his lips when things seemed to be going poorly for the heroine, slightly chewing on the bottom one when things got really bad, and the sliver of white teeth glinted in the light.
Dave realized Hal knew nothing about fighting or killing. It was never like in movies, or in those animes he tried to talk to Dave about. But he saw how the engineer invested his care and emotion in the fighters on the screen, and felt a small smile tug at his own lips when he thought Hal might show the same for him when they started their own missions.
He was used to feeling nothing for the person at the end of his radio or codec. But now… Now that dead, detached apathy had been supplanted by an awkward, blooming friendship.
Hal’s face positively lit up when the lead climbed inside the cargo loader and faced down the monster with a fierce roar. “Get away from her you bitch!”
For one night, they could forget Metal Gear was the monster.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 5, Day 1
“Michigan! It’s in northern Michigan!”
Hal beamed at his partner, thrusting printouts of facility maps and industrial specs into his arms. “The Omnitech headquarters outsourced their development to a Michigan branch of the organization. It’s located miles away from the closest town - where better to send your controversial projects than to the middle of nowhere across the country?” He paused for breath, looking pointedly at the soldier. “The paperwork for this branch was buried under multiple layers of subsidiaries and ghost corporations too. Something must be going on there, Dave.”
He put as much confidence as he could on his face, radiating certainty, willing the soldier to agree with him.
Dave looked at him long and carefully. “Is there anything more?”
Hal met his glance with full force. “Yes. I found a batch of statements about supplies heading to the facility for the past few weeks. There are parts scattered in different inventory lists that match up with what you need to build Rex. I made sure those parts were very particular, Dave.”
Hal’s eyes clouded, voice dropping low, the elation at cracking the mystery fading slowly to grief. “There are too many parts listed to just be a coincidence. And enough have been sent already to make a somewhat workable model.” He grimaced, shame spreading through him like an insidious weed.
Dave’s face softened. “All right. If you think you’ve got enough data to warrant a field operation now, Hal, I’ll trust you.”
He nodded soberly. “I do.” He tightened his jaw, resolute. “Our first mission will start here. We need to obtain on-sight evidence that Rex is being developed in this facility. Then we can disseminate that information to the public, expose the corporation, and the government should move in from there.” He smiled bleakly. “We’ll be the whistle-blowers, in a way.”
He felt the knot forming in his stomach, threatening to eat away at him. This is it. The real beginning. Everything starts now.
Dave sifted through the papers. “We’ll need to plan the infiltration carefully. I’ll study the facility; you concentrate on getting us to Michigan.”
“Can do.”
He marched back to the laptops, gave the window a cursory glance. With grim determination, he settled in for another long hacking session. This is my purpose now - I can start to make amends.
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Philanthropy - Alaska - Week 5, Day 7
Dave stood back as Hal mounted the steps up to the private charter plane at the Fairfield airport. He watched as the baggage handlers placed their cases and bags into the belly of the craft, glaring at them menacingly. After one handler had accidentally dropped a case (They’re lucky it was filled with everyday necessities, and not weapons or Hal’s computers), he made sure to stay in the midst of the workers, physically intimidating them. No one else had so much as stacked a container crookedly.
“Roger! You coming?” Hal looked quizzically down at him, tilting his head back toward the plane.
Dave growled softly, irritated at the fake name already. “Yeah, Norm.”
He swept his eyes across the tarmac, watched the snow pile a thicker blanket on the ground. He looked back in the direction toward his house, abandoned and silent now in the wilderness, and allowed himself a moment of sentiment. He had no idea when he would return to the city that bore his old friend’s name - or if he ever could.
Goodbye, Fox Alaska.
Goodbye empty bottles and empty promises and empty life.
A tingle ran up his spine as his own words echoed in his head: “I always work alone.”
Goodbye loneliness.
The tingle turned into a shiver, though he didn’t shake. The familiar excitement was starting to grow, anticipation for the mission taking root, but this time it was bolstered with a new kind of optimism.
He swiftly mounted the steps and flashed Hal a brilliant grin. Hal’s brows furrowed slightly at the sudden shift in his mood, then he laughed quietly and led the soldier inside.
“Let’s get going.”
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So! Aside from the drabble I wrote for the Halloween challenge, this is my first fic. I'm still trying to nail down my writing style. If anyone would like to beta future chapters, I would love you oh so much!