Work Text:
Otasune - Cabin Fever
SeasonSolly
It was early morning in southern Alaska, somewhere in the Fox Archipelago; the heart of the Aleutians. Speeding on a snowmobile from an ice-bridge to the mainland, Snake and Otacon return from Shadow Moses Island. Snap-cold fog brushing against their faces like steel wool, their minds still racing from the events that took place mere hours before.
Otacon slacked his arms and leaned back to get a better look at Snake; The scent of gasoline and smoke thick on his sneaking suit, the back of his hair matted with dirt and sweat. Crawling through air ducts, snow, dirt, caves. It’s surprising, he thought, that he wasn’t absolutely filthy. All he could do is think. There wasn’t room to speak, not when the wind was cutting at their faces. Minutes turned to hours, and hours faded between the morning of their escape, and the night falling under the freezing sky. Between the biting cold of the Alaskan winter, lack of comfort and food, Otacon was slowly slipping. His eyes began to fall as Snake slowed the ski-doo down, and he slumped over the controls as Snake stood up.
“Well, this is it. Home sweet home.”
Before the two lay Snake's cabin, a small property on the edge of the forest. The cabin was larger than Otacon was expecting, and far more imperfect. An orange light beaming from both the house, and a small shed to the side.
“I made it myself when I heard I was retiring, thinking if I was settling down, maybe I could mold my own life out here exactly how I wanted it.” Snake looked at Otacon, struggling to dismount from the snowmobile.
“It’s more… quaint, than I would have expected from someone larger than life as yourself, Dave.”
“Hah, you think I want to live in some mansion on Hollywood Boulevard?” Snake turns proudly and smirks, both hands on his hips, basking in what he knows to be a labor of love. “I think it suits me just fine.”
“If you say so. Maybe it’s cozier on the inside than it looks, besides, can we go in already? I’m freezing out here…” Otacon still silently suffering from the snowmobile ride, making an effort to subtly, not-so-subtly show Snake he’s ready to end this trip.
“Sure. Door should be unlocked so let yourself in, I’ve got blankets by the couch in the living room if you need them.”
Otacon took the first steps into the cabin, curtains over every window kept the house dark, the well lived in walls smelling faintly of pine, basil, and of course, cigarettes. He flipped the light switch on the wall, and the greys of the dark quickly gave way to oranges and browns, greens and whites of pictures, paintings, tapestries and less than easily understandable art. In complete awe, Otacon slowly let himself in, basking in the tastes and aesthetics of an otherwise blank canvas for a human, a hero, all things considered, of whom others might project themselves onto. But in his own home, his soul lay bare, and it was warm.
Otacon was floored, the person he was so entirely sure of had now become someone he felt he had to learn all over again. Polished countertops, a skin rug from some large animal, and overall, surprisingly neat. He was so entranced, he didn’t even notice when Snake snuck up behind him and threw his arm over his shoulder.
“What do you think?”
“It’s so lavish! Snake I had no idea you lived like this, the way you handle dirty work, I assumed all you needed was a cardboard box.”
Snake snickered, “Come on, I wouldn’t waste a tactical item like that.” Otacon worriedly laughed as Snake moved past him, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t joking.
Snake walked to the kitchen, and out of the freezer, pulled two large, frozen chickens, one in each hand. “Let me make us something real, not those rations I’m sure you’re so used to” he chuckled. Otacon’s stomach growled. It’d been longer than he realized since he’d had a real meal, one seasoned and not pre-packaged.
“You cook?” Otacon asked, eyes now towards the hanging rack over the kitchen.
“Sure, is that surprising?” Snake snapped back, throwing an apron over his sneaking suit.
“Well, let me rephrase, do you cook well?”
Snake looked back from the counter and smiled through the corner of his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I know a renaissance man such as yourself has to have SOME potholes, surely you can’t be good at everything.” Otacon walked towards the kitchen island, his eyebrows playfully bouncing as he toyed with the mental image of Snake: Michelin star chef.
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Hey, hand me the petty knife.” Snake pointed towards his knife rack.
Otacon stuttered and fidgeted around the knives, his hands haphazardly approaching, and promptly retracting, afraid that if he made the wrong choice, Snake would be upset with him. Before he could react, Snake had already snuck behind him, and with a swift and delicate motion, clasped and led Otacon’s hand toward the petty knife at the end of the rack.
Otacon looked back at Snake, not mere inches from his face. Yet, all he could see was a bright smile behind tired eyes; Someone who didn’t care if he made mistakes, and didn’t mind him not being perfect.
“Sorry, I’m not well acquainted with this kind of stuff…” Otacon lowered his eyes and began to sulk.
“Don’t worry, you’ve got more skills than me in some places too, right?”
“I guess…” Otacon muttered dejectedly.
Snake grabbed him by the shoulders, “Listen, there are things you can do that wouldn’t make sense to me in a hundred years. Coding, computers, Metal Ge-“
“Stop! Stop it, Snake. Please, I get it, but those things are all facets of me that have been abused by others and I’d… I’d rather just not think about it right now.” Not sure what to feel, Otacon slumped his shoulders and made his way to the couch, throwing blanket upon blanket over him.
“Hal, I-…” Snake’s eyes grew dim, and he turned his attention back to the cutting board.
Soon, an hour had passed. Through the living room, over the sound of the oven and the fireplace, Snake could hear Otacon snoring, soundly and at peace. More than anything, he wanted to collapse, to feel that same warmth under the blankets, the soft subtle smell of Otacon’s sweat under his labcoat. The chicken roasted nicely, and soon, the whole house smelled of warm pepper and rosemary.
Snake nudged Otacon awake, one hand on his shoulder and his face close to Hal’s.
“Hey, dinner’s ready. You hungry?”
Otacon shot awake, blankets now hung over the couch and spread across the floor. On the dinner table lay two roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, sauteed greens, and Pinot Noir. Otacon pulled out a chair closest to him, and was visibly shocked at the quality of the food; Not just the ingredients, but Snake’s prowess for the culinary arts.
“Wow! Snake, I don’t know what to say…”
“Then don’t say anything. My treat.”
Otacon took to the food immediately, and although he didn’t speak for five minutes, he was anything but silent. Snake belly laughed, he had seen Otacon embarrass himself time and time again, but for some reason, taking care of him gave this seemingly vulnerable person another side. Something even softer, something he wanted nothing more than to take care of.
✦
The bedroom door nudged open, Snake starting towards the bed in his evening outfit, a soft limp dragging his right leg on the linoleum. The faint tan glow of the shed light through the blinds catches his calf to his thigh, then his abdomen, his chest, his neck, until the light lands on his eyes. They’re brown, laced in deep red purple bags. but Otacon already knew this. He was familiar with Snake’s eyes, every codec-call another chance to look through to him, the man risking everything to save the world. To save Mei-Ling, Campbell, Meryl. Miller. To save the people he cared about. To save him.
Snake made his way to the foot of the bed before he dropped, shifting the mattress. Otacon sat up, his bed shirt caught under his bottom, and moved his way towards Snake.
“Everything okay?” Otacon asked, hand on Snake’s back, tracing his scars, some still fresh, some old and dark. Everything, still warm and damp. Snake let out a deep sigh, more than relief, but less than relaxation. Otacon could feel it through his back, Snake was tense, even after everything had settled down. Otacon moved his hand higher towards Snake’s neck.
“You can’t just walk away unscathed from what happened, Snake. No one can.” Otacon traced the lines between David’s muscles with his inner two fingers. “You can’t expect yourself to be okay today, or even tomorrow.”
Snake turned to meet Otacon’s eyes, their faces mere inches away. Both of their gazes, mournful and sullen, both ready for the other to tell them that everything would be okay, that the only thing that they needed in that very moment was the other’s touch, even if only for a night.
He smells like cedar and cigarettes, Otacon thought, hand now up to Snake’s nape, fingers resting gently between his hair, softer and thicker than he thought. A chill caught Otacon’s spine.
“Do you ever think of moving? I mean, away from this? Maybe somewhere warmer preferably.”
Snake’s eyes fixate on the ceiling, the sound of the wind outside batting against the house much clearer for the moment he takes to answer.
“I don’t think so. Well… not now, at least. If I’m being pulled out of retirement, it’ll mean I won’t be here for long anyways. Campbell is a stick in my ass about relocation. You know I’ve lived in 24 of the states already?”
“What!? Really, at your age?” Otacon’s glasses tilt on his nose before he adjusts them.
“Sure, but each time it’s been in some cabin or hut, something far away from society. Well, except for Rhode Island. It was hard to find any good locations, so I had to settle for a town house.” Snake looked back at Otacon, his expression now a mix between awe and mild disbelief.
“You know I didn’t take you for this cold, individualistic type at first, but I can’t imagine you in an apartment complex either.” Otacon sank deeper into the mattress.
Snake hummed to himself, and dwelled on Otacon’s words. Individualistic? Cold? It’s who he had to be to do the work no one else could do. To be the perfect soldier no one else could be. Miller always taught Snake that emotions could run strong on the battlefield, but that the heart should never waver in the face of the mission. He had been on the codec call with Snake in Zanzibar land, witnessing Frank Jaeger's decline into Grey Fox firsthand. He knew better than anyone what that bitter taste of betrayal felt like. What it meant to trust, and be rewarded only with a knife in your back.
But after Shadow Moses, after Meryl, Naomi, and after Otacon? Everyone only came out alive because he had to rely on others, because he had to disobey those years of training to learn to trust again. He couldn’t rely only on himself anymore, not because he had grown old and unreliable, but because he had a team of people who not only looked out for him, but cared enough to do so regardless of any mission. It was enough to choke him at the first thought.
“Snake? Hey, David? I didn’t really mean that, it was more of a joke than anything…”
First his throat started to itch, then pressure built behind his eyes, and into his forehead. Tears now, swelling against his will, hands shaking and body curling, pulling the sheets over his side. His mouth involuntarily opening at the sides, straining whimpers of hot air from behind his lips.
“Dave, Dave!” Hal sat up almost immediately, reaching for David, one hand around his exposed shoulder, and the other around his head. He put his mouth to David’s crown, and started caressing his hair back and forth. Then, between strokes, Hal , too, slowly begins to weep.
They had both lost so much in so little time that neither one had the time to process any of it. Sniper Wolf was Hal’s whole world for his time on the island, even if she never truly cared for him. She gave him something so rare, so far and few in-between in the dark desolate facility that held the two for so long: Hope. When she died, he didn’t blame David, it was what he needed to do. He still couldn’t blame him, for he understood better than anyone what it meant to be used for the “mission.”
Hal couldn’t hold back his emotions the way David could, and began unabashedly crying on him, emptying his lungs with each gasping breath, open mouth grief meeting the top of David’s head, both in an embrace of shame, fear, sorrow and relief. The wind against the house was the only gentle reminder that they still had their own lives, that whatever they felt now would only be temporary before the next storm. Would it be a new Metal Gear? What happened to Ocelot? Who could really say either of them cared at a time like this. As far as either one was concerned, the only thing that mattered in the whole world was wrapped around the other’s arms.
Minutes go by and the wails slowly calm down. Hal pulls his face away from David, his complexion completely wet with tears and snot. David, now calm himself, looked back up, his own face not much different. They lock eyes, and without saying a word, the pair chuckle to themselves. This time, they were certain: It was relief.
David leaned closer and without hesitation, placed his lips on Hal’s, his hands moving up to reach the sides of his face, fingers wrapped around his jaw, gently pressing into his cheek. Hal didn’t even think twice about leaning in, his skin starving for David’s touch. David’s stubble rubbing against Hal’s peach fuzz, the texture of his face a completely new sensation, although completely addicting. He pulled away, flush and abashed. “David, is this… are we…” he quietly gasped.
“Don’t think, please. It’s all I’ve been doing for too long and I’m tired Hal. I’m so damn tired, all the time.”
“Dave…” Hal’s eyes fall deep into David’s, his hair falling in the way as he tilts his head down. David moves his hand off Hal’s face, and using his fingers, moves Hal’s hair out of the way to see his face. His eyes were bloodshot, red hot like fire burning in his blood. And David could feel it on his cheek, too. Completely flush, nervous and worried the other wouldn’t feel the same. But he didn’t have time or space for anxieties, and he knew that if nobody in the world could act, that responsibility would fall on him.
With renewed faith, David planted his lips on Hal’s, and Hal let him. It was heat, passion, and a wanting feeling like neither man had felt before. Hal's hands supported him on the bed leaning back, as David leaned closer, pushing him down towards the bed. David’s body weight is a kind of comforting discomfort, Hal thought, embracing him on both sides now, laying flat on the bed. Between kissing, David would move his lips down Hal’s face, to his chin, his neck, chest, sides, and would come back up again just to tease the helpless scientist. He’d heard Hal whimper before, but nothing like this. It was intoxicating, a positive feedback loop he never wanted to leave. He grabbed him by the sides and lay upright, the two held one another as they kissed, the light of the shed skimming over their heads as they moved about the bed.
David threw Hal over onto his back, the linen billowing under him as he came down on the bed. Between faint murmurs of Dave and please, he watched helplessly as David sat up and began to straddle him, his thighs rubbing against his own. As David settled over him, Hal could feel the muscles of David’s legs, soft and bulky, like pillars. Compared to his thinner legs, it was almost as if every movement was carefully executed so as to not smother Hal, that David took extra care in every moment to savor what time he had with the man he’d grown so close to.
Snake flashed a dry smile lurking over Otacon, a kind of hapless want that would scare lesser men in combat. Otacon felt a jolt rush through his body as he felt a kind of helplessness wash over him, like the David in front of him had turned him to stone with his very gaze. “Are you ready?” he teased.
Without waiting for an answer, David had begun to slowly undo Hal’s shirt, first by his neck, his hot breath gracing Hal’s skin. Then the chest, his fingers steady and methodical, like surgery. Then lower, down to his waist, where it was clear, if not by words or by actions, that Hal had wanted Dave since the moment they met.
Hal’s skin was clear and soft, if not for the light acne on his shoulders and down his back. This was the visage of someone who has never worked a day of hard labour a day in his life, and David loved every square inch of him. He kissed Hal’s chest, his abs and his nipples, making his way around his body with his mouth, occasionally leaning up to kiss Hal on the mouth. Between heavy breaths and involuntary whimpers, David finally placed his hand lower on Hal’s cock, where he threw his head back from the shock of a sensation he’d never felt before.
“Is this okay?” David asked rhetorically.
“Y-yes, I don’t mind… p-please Dave… be gentle…” Hal was visibly shaking now, a mix of fear and lust, like his flight or fight had been activated, and he wasn’t sure how to turn it off.
David slowly rubbed Hal’s cock up, and down, and up, and down over his pajama pants, every movement small and careful, yet strong enough to set Hal’s heart ablaze. David, with his right hand firmly on Hal’s cock, leaned forward and kissed him once, before leaning back and slowly but surely, pulling Hal’s pants clean off. His legs were hairy, which was funny, David thought, considering the rest of him was completely smooth, save his peach fuzz.
“I’m sorry, I’m not that big…” Hal said, one hand over his mouth and the other on David’s side.
“Do I look like I care? Besides, it’s you. It wouldn’t matter either way.” David shook his head, still flashing that same familiar smile, as he leaned in, and began to kiss Hal’s cock, a few times at the base, making his way up before wrapping his lips around the head, and slowly making his way down.
Hal couldn’t contain himself, screaming Dave! and God! between clutching the sheets and gasping for air. He didn’t know he could feel so good. He wasn't sure he was allowed to feel this good. Shivers went down his spine as the cold air of the night seeped over him, that he could only focus on the one warm thing in the room: David, pleasing him, taking care of him in ways no one else ever had before. But Hal didn’t think, he couldn’t think, not with his cock in David’s mouth. Occasionally, he would stop to use his hands, spitting on it to keep it lubed and soft.
David continued to stroke Hal’s cock as he kissed him, getting faster and more careless and time moved on, when after only a short while, Hal was certain he was going to cum. “Mmmph… Dave… please…” He muttered through short, pathetic cries. David, understanding what he meant, quickly stopped, and with his hands in the air, denied Hal any pleasure that he seeked.
“H-hey… what’s wrong? Did I… did I do something?” Hal, now sweaty and splayed all over the bed, asked David, hovering over him.
“Nothing at all, you’re being good for me. I just like watching you squirm.”
You’re being good for me? Watching you squirm? Something within Hal snapped, like every light in his head turned off simultaneously. Oh god, he thought, is this really the same man who saved me at Shadow Moses? Did I want to be like him, or did I want to be with him? He was completely, utterly desperate.
Not just because he hadn’t felt a meaningful connection since his childhood.
Not just because the trauma between his mother and him had been eating away at his soul.
Not because he watched his forlorn love die in front of him mere hours before.
But maybe, just maybe, because for the first time in a long time, he knew that something could be okay. Hal didn’t know how to react, he’d never received that kind of praise before, and now he only wanted more.
“Oh, God. Dave, h-how else can I be good for you?” he muttered aimlessly. David smiled, Hal’s chin now resting perfectly in his palms, still wet. He chuckled to himself.
“As long as you’re asking, be good for me and lean back.” David gently pushed Hal against the headboard of the bed.
“Are we… going to-”
“Not tonight, I don’t have that kind of energy.” Hal sighed, half disappointed, but half relieved since he hadn’t prepared for anything serious.
After Hal had leaned back at the head of the bed, David took the opportunity to slowly remove his own clothing. First his t-shirt, revealing his scarred, hairy, and well defined chest. His arms thick yet soft, small scars around his wrists served as reminders of his capture not too long ago. Then, his bottoms, slowly revealing his larger, thicker cock, where Hal was completely taken aback, but not surprised in the slightest. When he slid the rest of his pants off, David’s cock straightened out, leaning towards Hal, as hard as it was soft at the same time.
Without thinking, Hal reached out, placing one hand after the other over David’s shaft, his fingers glossing over the veins and skin.
“Hal, wait, I-”
Hal wrapped his lips around David’s cock immediately, and began to move his way around, from the tip to the base, working only with techniques he’d just been taught. To David’s surprise, not only was he a quick learner, but his mouth was surprisingly hot, and for whatever reason, he had no trouble taking every inch. David placed his hands on Hal’s forearms and dug his nails in, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark.
“Hal…”
His arms and shoulders ached, David’s fingers digging deep into his skin, gently shaking, relaxed and tense in a swirl of pleasure and adrenaline.
“Hal...!”
A deep gasp, air scraping past what little dust from shadow moses still haunted his breath.
“Hal, stop…!”
But Hal wouldn’t stop, as he raised his eyes to meet Dave’s, they locked glances, David’s eyes wincing from pleasure, and Hal’s, tired, but committed to loving Dave as long as he wanted. They came to a non-verbal agreement that this was Hal being good, and whatever David wanted from his body, he would provide.
The way he moved his tongue around the tip, and the way he used his hands when his mouth got tired. The way he would occasionally whisper Snake and Dave in the same breath, or the way a string of spit would appear between their lips when he’d lean up to kiss his lover. It was surreal, David thought, that someone so fragile, so sheltered as Hal, could still be so caring, so thoughtful, and so intent on pleasing him of all people.
“I’m gonna cum Hal…”
Perhaps he didn’t hear David, because Hal didn’t stop for a moment.
“Hal, please…”
He kept going. Faster, with more tongue, more heat, more passion.
“Ah… Ahh… Ahhh!"
Hal finally slowed down, as he felt the string of cum enter his mouth, David’s cock pulsing one load after another. It was salty, he thought, and that it didn’t taste very good at all, but it was David’s, and that alone, he knew, made it worth it. He leaned up from the bed, and with David’s cum still resting on his tongue, kissed him, sharing the pleasure he’d been so tirelessly granted.
David didn’t give it a second thought, and kissed him back. He didn’t mind the taste either. It was messy and strange, hot and wild. After a moment, they separated, and there, in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, in a small cabin, on a queen size bed, lay the two men; utterly exhausted, but positively glowing.
Hal was the first one to speak up, only after panting on the sheets for half a minute.
“I must be dreaming… Did that really happen?” He rolled over to face David who was still sweating from the action earlier, chest to the ceiling, watching the fan whirr gently above them. David didn’t respond, but rather, he just started laughing. Not quite a chuckle, but a kind of laugh that only happens through pure relief, a soft laugh of joy and satisfaction. It was like nothing in this world could have been funnier to him. Hal didn’t worry about whether or not Dave had an answer for him, and he just laughed along.
✦
“How do you take it?” Snake in his morning robe leaned over the couch to Otacon, curled snuggly under a few blankets.
“I’m sorry?” Otacon turned from his trance out the window, where the morning snow had become mesmerizing.
“Your coffee, how do you take it?” Snake chuckled, putting his hand on Otacon’s hair, playing with it for a moment.
“Oh, hah, cream and sugar please, if you don’t mind.” Otacon returned his attention to the window, snow piling over the pines outside.
There was a quiet mum over the ice, arctic wind blowing through the pines, and somewhere far, far away, love had blossomed on the battlefield.
✦
Alt Ending:
“Snake, if you’re uncircumcised, does that mean…”
Big Boss bursts through the door, pants OFF, cock OUT.
He is uncircumcised.
Writer's note:
Hi! This is my first submission to Ao3 but I've been writing for years, so I'll probably post more as time passes, but please support me if you like the story! <333
ps. the formatting of this might be terrible pls bare with me while i figure all this out!