#hal is not entirely at fault either. if dave said anything there would be a conversation

[reddeliciousauce]

♡ halware-exe

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION

●●●●● | AFFECTION

●●●●○ | INTEREST

●●●●● | LOYALTY

●●●●● | TRUST

@halware-exe

[absolute-barbarism]

What Are You Doing? (Metal Gear Solid)

(Fever February, Day 16: “I’m okay, it’s just a tiny fever”. Also on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664700

Summary:  Snake has 'come down' with a cold...except he insists on being up and about, and even Otacon struggles to sweet talk him into taking it easy.)

Stealth.

Stealth is the first word Otacon thinks of when he thinks of Snake. Needless to say, he thinks about stealth a lot. There's an art to the way he moves, particularly in his feet; always treading from sole to heel with each step, distributing his weight in such a way you might wonder if that's crafted the build he has today. And if so, he's eternally grateful for Snake's stealth.

He's so grateful for it that, when the door halfheartedly opens and the perpetrator of those obnoxiously loud steps up the stairs is revealed, he's more surprised to see Snake than a drunken stranger in their apartment.

Otacon isn't exactly the master of sneaking around himself. He more tiptoes whenever trying not to rouse the rare sight of a sleeping Snake, somehow creating an even louder sound than his usual footsteps. But this is just ridiculous.

"What are you doing? I thought you said we should try and lie low, not stomp loud." He's lucky to have brought an extra pair of glasses after accidentally breaking the first. Without them...No, he'd probably still see the sheen of sweat over a normally captivating- for other reasons anyway- face. Snake ignores him on his way past, a little too coldly for his liking. Only moments later does he make any sort of acknowledging sound, though the "hmph" that rumbles in his chest sounds more like a thick second attempt at a sound that didn't come out the first time. Otacon raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going, Snake?"

Smart is the first word Snake thinks of when he thinks of Otacon. All because he doesn't really have a better word, but right now, it fits perfect. He's smart, and knows the answer will be an irrefutable tell. Eyes narrowed in focus, he gives it his best try.

"Kitchen," he replies. It's useless. He can't conceal the stuffiness nor the exhaustion from his voice, and Otacon hasn't just caught on. He's figured every bit of it out.

"That's one heck of a cold...You mind if I feel your forehead?" He's too quick, too. Before an answer can break free from the congestion, there's a hand against his burning skin so similar to that sweet cold side of a pillow, he can't help but lean into it. Of course he's got a fever. Even a body such as his own can't fight against winters like these. Otacon won't even bother with "I knew it" or "I told you so". It would be too cruel when he can physically feel him falling asleep standing up. "Alright, I'll get your bed made for you. Might as well pick up some Ibuprofen while I'm out tomorrow, too...Oh, and if I'm at the drug store, I guess I should get an actual thermometer. Do you think- ...Snake?"

Just how could he trudge up the stairs like a lummox and then slip away from plain sight without him noticing? Exploiting his cluelessness like this when they know each other so well now simply isn't right. He follows the sound of water running in the bathroom, all sorts of confused to see something he wasn't normally preoccupied with when healthy.

"What are you doing?" he asks again.

"Brushing my teeth." That much is obvious, but it doesn't really answer his question. As he spits the foam out, Otacon can't help but stare, a sort of dreadful feeling welling up like this might not be the last time he asks this tonight. "I don't normally get the luxury of brushing my teeth every day like you," the man explains further. "So when I have the opportunity-" The cough that'd been well kept in his chest all this time finally burst, wracking his entire body until one hand clung to the sink for dear consciousness and the other to Otacon.

"They're brushed," comes the tender response. "At least lie down while I go and grab an extra blanket or two." There's not much either of them could or would do to push each other's buttons. Not when it's between the two of them. Snake gives a reluctant nod, heading for the bedroom while Otacon steps out on his mission for blankets big enough for his size and his tossing and turning throughout the night.

It's not long before he comes back. He doesn't think it's been too long. Three minutes tops; the kind old lady next to their room had plenty to spare on blankets and awfully forward opinions on their apparently not so quiet night last night. He was still flushed by the time he came back. But that doesn't last long, because he's searching for the man who was certainly headed towards where he'd been told to once he left, and now was nowhere near the bedroom.

Of course. He said earlier he was trying to get to the kitchen.

Even more puzzling than before, Snake is rooting through pots and pans, and this time Otacon can't do much more than stare at him for a while. For the third time, "What are you doing?", and both of them have become numb to it.

"You asked..." Snake tries. He's swaying- Snake is swaying on his feet, Otacon is behind him in half a second. Refusing to stumble backwards, he clears his throat instead, wishing though that he could clear his head. "You asked me to take care of dinner this time."

"Snake..." There's no way to not feel guilty, even without any real fault. Otacon puts a steadying hand on his shoulder anyways, soft eyes even softer when Snake seems to sigh at the touch. "For goodness' sake, I'm not hungry. You're too feverish to think straight. Will you listen to me?" There's just a hint of seriousness in his voice, but never enough to overrule the gentle tone. That's the only thing that always gets Snake to listen. "You need sleep. That's all I'm asking you for, alright? Just try, for me."

Another sigh breezes through Snake's teeth. He wishes it was smoke and not air, but Otacon probably won't let him at any cigarettes for a while now. On at least that much, he's gonna have to budge- if he can stay awake long enough to pester him about it. Either way, even he can agree that now's not the time. The whole kitchen is a swirl.

He's still mumbling halfhearted protests about this and that he has to do while staggering against the much smaller body of quote-unquote "support", but it's a battle he's lost; not a minute later, he's under the covers. Another cough comes forth, but it's thankfully not like the hacking from earlier, and instead more like little puffs of breath that he can't bother to cover with his fist. He can't bother to do much of anything. Otacon turns to grab the second blanket, and by the time he turns back, he's out like a light.

The fondness in Otacon's smile lasts even past the snoring once Snake is fully good and asleep, content to see him resting even if he knows it'll be a battle for the next few days. Lots of things are a battle with Snake. But there's only one word he thinks of when he thinks about Dave, and that word is simply dorky. He's a dork just like Hal is, 'Otacon' or not, and that side of him won't put up the same kind of fight Snake will win at any cost. Love can bloom on a battlefield like that...

...He just wishes he didn't snore so loud.