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Time is a cruel, unforgiving mistress, constantly altering appearances and truths. The concept is frightening to many, primarily due to the idea that every single moment that occurs will eventually become rooted in the past. There is no such thing as the present, there is no ‘now;’ only the events that have already transpired and the pains awaiting a person in the future.
Despite this, the waves crash against the shore in a manner of nonchalance, completely oblivious to the happenings of the world outside its boundaries. The waves do not fear, they do not find themselves savoring the past. In a way, Adamska was a simplistic wave, his whims bringing him to the shore and throwing him into an abyssal existence. The past had no effect on his choices and decisions, as he was only focusing on the future. The conceptual time had nothing to do with his actions. Occasionally, the past would catch up to him in a manner that would hurl other waves into his body, forcing him to accept that, yes, the world was moving and shifting due to past events.
A certain hatred was held within him, lamenting the process of aging. He didn’t find himself as limber as years past and a premature shade of silver found its way into his hairs. Although there was still half a lifetime remaining, this wave still feared the future that he had applied all his focus on. No, it wasn’t the thought of death that haunted him thus- his fear of the past was a constant lurking entity, always creeping upon its unsuspecting prey. A long-forgotten colleague, a past acquaintance; he was never able to completely ignore the events of a faraway time.
There is no past or present in a soldier’s life. Only the future.
Of course, there still remained memories that were held dearly within Adamska’s heart. Whether or not this was a good thing was still an open jury. A glance at a nearby calendar or upon the news station stated pointedly that eight years had passed since a memory that had led to his current predicament.
Anger always tended to set in on this particular day. Why was this the date that he constantly came back to for reassurance in his future? Certainly, there had to be hundreds of events that were worth remembering more vividly than something as mundane as October 8th, 1976.
He opted to ignore the fact that a majority of these memories involved his first meeting with Kazuhira Miller.
***
A simple walk; that’s all he was partaking in. An inspection of the conditions of portions of Mother Base that were under renovation, certainly. Quite a little amount of attention was focused on the quality of construction as opposed to the way that he observed the waves lapping against the large metal structure that had been his home for quite a bit.
Men saluted in a practiced fashion as he passed by, showcasing their allegiance to the cause known as Diamond Dogs. Footsteps echoed throughout the area, creating a symphony alongside the noises caused by drills and hammers. Heavy machinery was operated without a percent of error, showcasing just exactly how much skill was held by one of the newest recruits that had been extracted in the field. Despite the many languages that Adamska held under his belt, the words that came out of the man’s mouth upon sighting the higher-up were foreign. The man’s tongue danced around syllables that Adamska wouldn’t have dreamed of pronouncing correctly upon the first try.
This showcased the exotic nature of Diamond Dogs. Many members volunteered from countries that were both large and small in order to form the melting pot of Mother Base. A swell of pride formed within Adamska’s chest- He had helped to form this organization that spoke a thousand tongues, that highlighted the best soldiers from all over the planet Earth.
Diamond Dogs may have been created in the best interest of Big Boss, but it truly was the brainchild born from the cooperation of him and MIller. It was the only connection the two shared, acting as a form of glue that trapped the opposites into a companionship.
Perhaps ‘companionship’ wasn’t the correct word. They bickered constantly over the smallest of details, yet both would find themselves in agreement only when it was about a decision that had been personally declared by Big Boss.
Thoughts of Miller had been frequent and not very far between. Of course, there was the occasional tinge of curiosity as to what the man was up to in regards to the construction and finances of Mother Base, although Adamska’s non-verbalized questions tended to delve into the strange and obscure. A need to know what the other had consumed for lunch would snake its way into the slightly older man’s mind. Various other curiosities would swarm his mind, no matter how far past max capacity his thoughts were filling his head. Thoughts similar in nature to this had only sprung up years prior, whenever Adamska had first met the man then known as Naked Snake.
At the time, he had attributed these thoughts to the idea that he was hunting this man down, constantly reflecting on his previous failures in order to make things better.
He eventually attributed these memories to the reason that he refused to dwell in past events. Except, of course, October 8th, 1976.
Eight years had passed since this fateful meeting that was perfect for reminiscing whenever Adamska wished to recall the shouting voice of a certain Miller, as well as the way that the bolder man had to be restrained to prevent him from decking Adamska directly in the face. Somehow, they formed an agreement that lead to their current predicament despite these opening throws.
They saw little of each other in the years leading up to the current 1984. Despite this, every October 8th that passed by was seen in his eyes as an important date, although he couldn’t recall the significance of that particular day besides his initial meeting with K- no, Miller. He was Miller to Adamska, and Adamska was Ocelot to Miller.
The two argued a seemingly continuous argument, forever squabbling over petty topics. Neither would give up their shield of emotion, refusing to show weakness to the other. There were short and sweet moments when both would find themselves worrying over a mission they had sent Big Boss out on, almost silently using the other as a grounding mechanism. This was rare, however, as the Boss never really found himself in tight circumstances.
Mindless walking led him to the entrance of Miller’s office. The door certainly wasn’t reminiscent of its importance as one of the three central offices upon the floating construct, just built of the standard metal that made up every other door on base. Whether this was for added security or the ease and cheapness of ordering in bulk was a valid question when talking about the actions of Miller.
Adamska found himself walking up to the door and trying the handle. No mechanism prevented him from pushing down the handle, signaling that the entrance was unlocked. In a practiced motion, he entered the room.
His view upon opening the door was an evidently tired Miller, raising his head to view the intruder that had rudely barged into this private area. His desk was littered with various papers and pens, creating a mess that would have made anyone view this man as nothing but disorganized. However, there was no doubt within Adamska’s mind that this man knew exactly where every single sheet was. The aura of organized chaos rang deep throughout the room, from an overflowing trash can to the messily-ordered bookshelves that were full of empty spaces.
An irritated expression graced a face mostly obscured by aviators upon the realization of who exactly his intruder was. This expression turned from one of annoyance to shock in a mere second. More than likely, Miller feared the possibility that Ocelot had only traversed to his office in order to give him negative news in person.
Adamska raised his hands in a surrendering gesture while stepping into the room and then closing the door behind him. A smirk played upon his features as he spoke. “It’s alright, I’m not the bearer of bad news,” a few more steps were traversed, bringing him to the opposite side of Miller’s messy desk. “This time, anyway.”
A noncommittal noise made its way out of Miller’s throat. “Then why exactly are you disrupting the peace?”
A single chuckle escaped Adamska’s mouth. “I wouldn’t exactly refer to this place as a peaceful area.” He looked around the small space to emphasize his point. A miniature fan hummed as a radio played the muffled noises of Huey Lewis and the News performing “I Want A New Drug.”
Miller scowled and directed his gaze back towards his work. Adamska leaned upon the desk and scanned his eyes over the paperwork, finding nothing but scribbly lines and eraser marks adorning the paper. His eyebrows perked up upon the discovery, that sadistic grin forming upon his aged face. This would be the perfect blackmail opportunity.
Upon noticing Ocelot’s expression, Miller half-heartedly covered up his paper with his remaining hand. Despite this attempt at hiding the evidence, Adamska had already cooked up a plan with which to harass the blonder of the infamous duo.
“Writing a song, eh Miller?”
An ashamed head tilted to the side, although Adamska could see through his sunglasses that Miller’s eyes remained locked to the famed Shalashaska’s face. Adamska was fully capable of seeing that Miller didn’t really suspect that anyone would be entering his domain on this particular day, interrupting his process. What Adamska hadn’t seen coming was the sheer amount of shame that plagued the body movements of one missing nearly half his body.
Leaving his defensive position, Miller leaned back into his plush chair in defeat, ready to take whatever hits Ocelot would throw at his ego. “You know, I promised myself that the next asshole who comes knocking on that door would be the test subject, but that was before your pale ass came bursting into here without permission.”
Another chuckle filled the room with warmth. Adamska walked around the desk until he was standing beside Miller’s location. His remaining hand left its spot covering the hastily drawn music sheet, a silent, yet tentative, allowance for the room’s other resident to view his work.
“You know, out of all the languages I speak, I don’t know the language of music.” Adamska worked out, a hint of bragging peppering his tone. “Maybe you’ll just have to give me an example.” His eyes danced around the room once more in search of an instrument of some type, although his search came up fruitless. A radio announcer spoke with much enthusiasm about a new single by his favored band in the background, creating an even more awkward atmosphere as Adamska inquired as to the location of Miller’s instrument was.
Wide eyes were somewhat visible behind tinted glass. They slowly simmered down to a smaller size, although they then averted their gaze towards the desk’s corner. Anger overtook his features, although Adamska found himself incapable of telling whether it was directed towards him or another outer source.
Realization dawned upon the Russian’s features- how would Miller play any instrument missing an arm? His face slightly reddened in embarrassment, realizing that he had overlooked the forgotten limb. With his remaining hand, Miller waved dismissively in the air. The sincere anger had subsided, and that gesture acted as if he were dismissing the emotion in a fashion similar to swatting a fly.
“You know, you’re not all that different than eight years ago.” Adamska tentatively stated. The look on Miller’s face emphasized a wish for the statement to be elaborated on, although Adamska stopped speaking there.
Instead, Miller continued the subject without further elaboration. “It’s been eight years already, huh.” His words sounded more like a statement of confirmation to himself than a question directed towards his current companion. Adamska simply nodded in response, absentmindedly pulling out a revolver and spinning it on his pointer finger.
Miller observed the action, the sounds of the fan and radio drowning out the nearly silent humming that escaped from his mouth. Adamska looked towards Miller, raising a single eyebrow in question. “Your humming isn’t even close to the song on the radio.” He stated rather blankly, noticing that Miller’s eyes were focused on the hasty sheet music in front of him.
“It’s the song- I mean, what I had before I erased it.” He was testing the waters, unsure of how exactly Ocelot would react to his tune.
A gruff grunt found its way into the room as Adamska placed his firearm back into its holster. Miller watched this action with particular focus, waiting in an impatient manner to see if Ocelot would further speak on his thoughts regarding the in-progress song. Whenever it became evident that they would sit in silence until the younger man spoke, shaky words escaped his throat.
“Back when they had me, the Soviets, they wanted to toy with me to see if I’d give anything up.” Adamska cocked his eyebrow once more, urging Miller to continue. He complied. “So, of course, these fuckers decide on Russian Roulette.” Hearty laughter makes its way into the room, causing Miller to smirk, although it soon faltered as he spoke up once again. “The fact that it was Russian Roulette and involved a revolver- well, let’s just say I was pissed. Thought of you, didn’t like the idea that potentially my last thoughts would be about someone like you.”
Adamska wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement, so he coated his face in an amused grin to hide his uncertainty. He lowered his stance so that his head was on an equal level with the sitting man’s. Attempting to look through the thin glass to further harass Miller, their faces were close.
Miller resumed his words, staring directly into the ice-blue soul of Ocelot. “Of course, the Boss came up and did something that put them on combat alert, so those idiots had to go out and get slaughtered or something.” He waved his hand dismissively once more, although Adamska’s eyes didn’t escape their hold on Miller.
A pang of emotions welled within Adamska. As strange as it was, he didn’t exactly mind the confusion and hitched breaths that were often experienced when together with Miller. Even as the two fought, they always seemed to have some type of unspoken, mutual agreement between them, although the specifics of that agreement were unknown by both. Occasionally, while hard at work within Room 101, Adamska would feel beady eyes watching him through the one-way mirror. Prior to the formation of Diamond Dogs, he had become quite accustomed to working in a solitary manner, with no outer forces watching upon him. The experiences were personal for him and, in a way, simply erotic- the thought of being watched while performing his most sinful activities was strange and exciting.
Thoughts of these experiences flooded into his mind as he watched careful eyes meet his own gaze. There was no denying it- Adamska surely felt some kind of attraction to Miller. It wasn’t the same variety of senseless love that he had went through with Naked Snake all those years ago, no, it was a new, fresh feeling of animal magnetism. He desired to learn as much as possible about his unique business partner, the allure of his fighting spirit and lust for revenge being a cologne that was impossible to not wish to breathe eternally.
“Let’s go a little farther back,” Adamska began, “Why would you be mad to think about a guy ‘like me?’” His playful smirk regained a hold of his face, while Miller’s eyes darted around Ocelot’s features.
Miller’s eyes regained Ocelot’s stare. He took a deep breath. “Well, for starters, the way you twirl your damn guns is annoying.” Their faces inched towards one another. “Your hair is white despite not even being fifty.” A single inch of air separated agape mouths, the next words a whisper. “And you’re a creep-”
Their lips met in a slow, delicate fashion. The kiss was short and chaste, and neither was certain as to who had been moving in the direction of the other. Despite the unclear initiation, both drew back in an emotion they weren’t able to describe. Miller’s mouth remained slightly open, heart beating fast.
“See? Just what I mean,” his lips closed together into a smile, “You’re such a creep.”
The smile was returned. “You don’t seem to mind, Miller.”
“It’s Kaz.”
“Adamska.”
***
Memories were such fickle things, ready to be forgotten at a moment’s notice. Strangely enough, everything regarding Miller would stay within Adamska’s brain. From the way he limped along the platforms to the way he plowed into a meal after a long day, every little detail was registered within the Russian’s mind and ready to be pulled up at a moment’s notice.
It was, frankly, disgusting to him. Yes, he had operated solely on whims and hopes for the future in his forty years of life, but these whims slowly faded away into what would be the best option for Kaz.
Their relationship progressed slowly, beginning with that peck on the lips. There wasn’t another kiss for five days due to the awkwardness of the situation as the two grew more and more comfortable with one another. Knee bumps became cherished coincidences, and they moved on as if they were teenagers feeling these emotions for the first time.
One such instance was on a Tuesday. They had just sent their Boss out on a new mission, leaving the two to control the base and provide assistance via iDroid. Although Adamska’s movements were commonly restricted to the Intel platform due to his duties, he found that, due to the qualifiable soldiers extracted by Big Boss in the field, he was able to wander away for short periods of time without the entire platform burning to the ground.
This led to frequent visits of Kaz’s messy domain. They tended to just sit in a comfortable silence, listening to the radio play the top forty for the week. Sometimes, they would sit on the floor together and lean against a wall, simply absorbing the presence of the other. Short and sweet kisses would be peppered on the other’s face, but nothing more.
The sun didn’t shine on this particular day. The air was damp with humidity, accompanied by the slight drizzle of water. Mother Base was calm and collected as the soldiers’ Boss meandered around with the always-trusty DD. Nobody really went about with a sense of urgency; no group was deployed due to the slow trickle of jobs that Kaz had been receiving. The base development platform was specifically tranquil because of the lack of requests for construction. Adamska found it silly that things such as that were completely controlled by their Boss and not individuals perfectly qualified, but that was another matter for another day.
There they sat within Kaz’s office, nonchalantly waiting for the monotonous day to pass. As always, the radio was playing, with Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” filling the room with noise. Adamska had grown to realize just exactly how fond Kaz was of music, lamenting the melancholy feeling that would well within his chest whenever he would realize that Kaz was incapable of playing out his own imagined melodies.
Recently, Adamska had convinced Kaz to give up a bit of GMP in order to purchase a couch for the office. It was a snug fit due to the small stature of the room even before the addition of more furniture, but Adamska found it perfect for taking his ‘cat’ naps while Kaz scribbled on about whatever official duty he was performing. He had all the time in the world- the intel team worked fluidly without his guidance, with the most he found himself doing being interrogation and some assistance to Big Boss once he was in the field.
As rain pattered on the window to an erratic beat, Adamska found himself sitting straight up on the red leather of the aforementioned couch. Kaz mumbled to himself some type of jargon that would likely sound like another language to Adamska, as he wasn’t the best at this money-managing topic.
“God damn it!” Kaz suddenly exclaimed, throwing his pen in anger at the desk. The pen bounced off the wood and onto the floor, coaxing out a groan from Kaz’s throat.
Without a word, Adamska rose and grabbed the pen off of the ground, placing it back in its rightful spot upon the desk. He was used to the clumsy habits of Kaz and had grown accustomed to picking items off of the floor for him, primarily because it was always a large hassle for a man with one arm and one flesh leg to grab anything from the ground.
Their positions were similar to the way that they had first physically proclaimed their mutual infatuation.
There is no past or present in a soldier’s life. Only the future.
The atmosphere became one of tense circumstances. Air felt thick and had trouble finding its way into the lungs of Adamska. He watched the softening expression of Kaz as the two noticed the familiarity of their positions.
The intimacy of the moment rivaled their first romantic encounter. It was as if something within their minds clicked, spurring on the passionate kiss they exchanged. Adamska felt the twinge of a smile pressed against his mouth, and the feeling was soothing in a way that their kisses had never been before. It felt as they had been hit by a cold spray of the ocean’s waves suddenly, the foam clinging to their skin.
The famed Revolver Ocelot was the first to pull away, leaving in his wake a confused Japanese-American. In a single swift movement, Adamska shoved his gloved hands underneath his lover’s knees and behind his back, effectively lifting Kaz up into the air.
Protests erupted into the room as the helpless victim was carried over to the still-warm couch. “Oce- Adam, what are you doing?” Came helpless cries, only ceasing once he was dropped without a tinge of delicacy onto the leather. “What the hell was that for?”
Kaz adjusted himself on the comfortable surface so that he was facing Adamska. The other chose to plop onto the lap of his companion, knees bent in a manner that was almost self-supporting as to ensure the minimum amount of weight was pressed onto the frailer of the two.
Adamska wrapped his arms around Kaz, muttering indistinguishable words in Russian. Kaz fought back, whispering his own take on the circumstances in Japanese. A few seconds after Adamska ceased his nonsense to those that didn’t know the language, Kaz silenced himself as well. He felt a smile curl in the crook of his neck as they both laughed from their souls at the situation. Adamska made a mental note to take up Japanese and surprise Kaz, while Kaz made the same promise, albeit switching Japanese for Russian.
English- the connector between the duo- became the main choice of speech once more. “Alright, you’ve had your fun,” he began as lazy kisses dotted his neck while a hand traced circles into his back, “Now, why did you take me away from my work just to sit on me?”
Nimble fingers gracefully removed aviators in a fairly practiced fashion. A kiss was placed onto the sunglasses, marking the lens. Before more protests found their way into the room, the glasses were tossed carelessly onto the hard ground. Kaz moved his head in an attempt to see if any damage had been done, alarm gracing those exposed eyes. Adamska’s hand moved to cup Kaz’s left cheek, turning his head in a fashion so that they faced each other.
“I’ll buy you new ones.” Came the muttered response to Kaz’s concern. Yet another peck was placed upon his lips by the older gentleman, although the kiss quickly deepened into something more. After a few minutes of a senseless make-out session, Kaz had quickly found himself forgetting about his discarded mask. Lips continuously met another set, creating a fevered rhythm that was, in a sense, not as hungry as one might think these two would partake in. Something about the way tongue was delicately added in, the way that it wasn’t a fight for dominance but more along the lines of a ballroom dance, it created a feeling of unison between Kazuhira and Adamska.
They separated once both noticed a growing desire forming from within. Panting slightly while trying to catch his breath, Adamska felt a growing hardness underneath his body. He quickly realized what exactly this chain of events had led to, allowing a smirk to grace his face. Adamska was in control of the situation, his body stationed on top- just how he liked it. He was aware that he and Kaz would have had an endless argument over who deserves to be in control if either of them had been thinking straight, but, alas, there was only time to act on impulse rather than thoughtfully plan.
A tentative movement was performed on Adamska’s part, eliciting a deep groan from the throat of Kaz. The air was thick, weighing down on the two as if it had been spiked with a thick concoction of molasses.
Kaz’s sole hand palmed at the bottom of the Shalashaska’s shirt, signaling that he wished he was capable of removing it himself. The grin laid dormant on Adamska’s face, thoroughly enjoying the upper hand he held in the situation. Removing his own hands from various places upon Kaz’s body, Adamska swiftly removed his trademark salmon-hued top. Kaz marveled at the unmarked abdomen, amazed at how many battles had attempted and failed to scar such milky skin. His hand raised and caressed a body that had likely bested a thousand men, fascinated by lines that defined muscle.
While Kaz was trapped within a trance, Adamska made quick work of undoing the blond man’s tie. Kaz snapped back into reality when he felt the cold air hit his chest, featuring notably more marks and nicks than were present on Adamska’s. Kaz’s hand fell from its position upon Adamska’s body, hitting into something that he identified as quite hard, yet soft and warm at the same time.
Oh, yeah.
A small yelp pulled Kaz back into the situation at hand, which he found to have originated from Adamska. With a little fevered assistance from the man in question, Kaz unbuckled Adamska’s pants. He pulled down the item keeping him from his prize along with a strangely colored pair of boxers, which he’d certainly have to inquire about following their charade. However, for now, there was only time for action.
All the while, Adamska had been planting miniscule kisses upon his lover’s exposed neck, nipping here and there as his hands assisted Kaz in the task of unbuckling his trousers. He felt the chill of the damp air strike his newly-exposed member, causing a sharp intake of air through his mouth. He breathed in the scent of Kazuhira; citrus, with a hint of cigar smoke from the time they had spent briefing their Boss. The time spent inhaling the essence of Kaz was cut short by a mischievous tug on his manhood, forcing a squeak to join the symphony of noises within the cramped room.
The radio played on despite the actions taking place. Bruce Springsteen’s most recent single, “Dancing in the Dark,” lightly accompanied the pittering of the rain that continued to come down. Slowly, the sound of Adamska’s light pants emerged as Kaz began tentatively pumping him, running in direct contrast to the steady beat brought about by the drums of the tune.
Adamska tried his damnedest to not allow himself to falter, to give into the pleasure that was slowly consuming his senses, but something about the scent of Kaz alongside the feeling of a sole hand stroking his cock made him want to give up his strong act for even just a fraction of a second.
As he reacted to the melodic movements that were rocking his grip on reality, Kaz quickened his pace, spreading a bead of precum upon Adamska’s shaft to allow for easier jerks. He felt as Adamska’s hands desperately gripped to his back, nails digging into flesh ever so slightly. Adamska placed hurried kisses on Kaz’s neck once more before moving back up to his mouth, teeth clashing in a frenzied kiss constructed of pure passion and adrenaline.
Kaz couldn’t help but smile against the other man’s lips as he felt Adamska mouth nonsense mixed with ‘Kaz’ into the kiss. Quiet moans would vibrate into Kaz’s body through the connection of their tongues.
The kiss evolved into more of a clashing of mouths as Adamska found himself closer and closer to the edge. All of his emotions pooled up inside of him, pushing him to the very limit. The rhythmic strokes of Kaz’s hand made Adamska feel as if he were that long-forgotten guitar that Kaz would surely play as if he had been born alongside it.
Time stopped as Adamska came, spurting his seed upon the bare chests of both men. Kaz slowed his strokes, jacking him off as he went through a long-deserved orgasm. Soon enough, it was over, and Adamska found himself leaning on Kaz’s shoulder. As his breath returned, Adamska pulled away from his lover’s body, instead opting to look him in the eye as he spoke.
“You tell no one about this.”
Kaz laughed a tender and heartfelt chuckle, causing Adamska to crack a smile. “Tell them what, that their commander whines like a little baby in bed?” He jokingly inquired, not expecting a reply. “Or that he gets so wrapped up in his own fun that he forgets about the person that did this to him?” As Kaz gestured at the cum drying upon their bodies, Adamska realized that he had completely neglected to take care of the man that had brought him to this high he was slowly descending from.
A gentle shift on Kaz’s lap revealed that Kaz wasn’t hard anymore, but there was a certain wetness oozing its way onto Adamska’s bottom.
Panic subsided as Adamska realized that he didn’t even need to do a single flick of the wrist to get Kaz to reach his own personal nirvana. “Huh, didn’t know you were that easy, Kaz,” he began, his tone mischievous, “I’m assuming I’m stuck doing your laundry so no one sees the mess you made?”
Yet another hearty laugh made way into the room. “You know, you were kind of grinding on me throughout that whole ordeal. Also, it’s been a while. Hard to do anything when you only have your left arm and you’re a righty.” It was Adamska’s turn to chuckle, picking up a discarded salmon shirt and wiping away the evidence.
***
There is no past or present in a soldier’s life. Only the future.
And that is why Adamska picked up the silver band and got on one knee, placing it on Kaz’s remaining ring finger. That is why they cried tears of joy for the first time in their lives, allowing themselves to be caught up in a moment that surely would never be lost.
Perhaps Adamska may have been avoiding the past for too long, following a broken mantra that could have easily been picked up on a fortune cookie.
But, now, he was free from the confines of a meaningless phrase. Of course, it was true in a sort of strange and sickening manner- there was only the future for he and Kazuhira, and Adamska was damn near certain that he wasn’t going to allow the past to separate them.
The waves lapped onto Mother Base, void of any cares or real responsibilities. However, they flowed together, not solitary in their endeavors.
Adamska truly was a wave, although not in the ways he previously saw comparable.