![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emerald_embersTitle: Reasons to be Concerned
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Pairing: Otacon/Snake
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 953
Summary: A day in the life of the House of Snake.
Life in the House Of Snake was always going to be strange. Hal Emmerich was smart enough to guess that fact long before volunteering to move in with the man (not that there had been much choice in volunteering with damn near every government in the world curious about the scientists involved in developing Metal Gear, ‘mysterious deaths’ be damned). It didn’t stop certain parts of life with Dave being strange, like the cellar being a miniature training ground and the loft filled near to bursting with cardboard boxes. Anything that came in box form ended up having its packaging stored, and attempts to rectify the situation were usually met with swift and brutal violence.
Today’s new discovery; post-shower Snake, a thoroughly distracting sight for many reasons, not least of which being the strategically placed flannel on the same leather cord holding a knife to his hip. Swiftly moving one’s gaze upward also brought to attention the cigarette he was smoking, and Hal would have bet good money on it being the same cigarette he’d gone into the shower with. The secrets of smokers were beyond the befuddled scientist.
“Staring?”
Hal’s skin went through an intriguingly fast change of colour as he returned to looking at the computer screen. Actually reading it was a little bit beyond his current abilities. “Sorry, I’m not used to mostly naked men in my living space.”
“It’s not yours,” Dave reminded him, ignoring the fact it technically wasn’t his either. “Glad to see you got the heap of trash going again.”
Hal petted the computer to soothe its non-existent feelings. “Just about everyone panics or gets hung up on the fan when overheating alarms go off. Easy to fix if you know how.”
“Sure,” Dave grumbled before walking off into his room, affording Hal a clear view of uncovered master of stealth arse, emerging less than a minute later in casual gear that only looked wholly bizarre because Solid Snake and casual-wear still seemed strange bedfellows.
“What’s with the walking around naked thing?” Hal asked at last in hope that voicing the question would help him get back to processing the heading he’d read at least four times now.
“Ever had someone burst in on you with a gun while you were struggling with a pants’ leg?”
Hal blinked. “That would be a new one.”
“Always do a safety check before letting down your guard. Second chances are rare.”
Trust Solid Snake to sound like an army manual while sporting a fetching post-towel barnet consisting of vertical spikes. “You look like Vash but brunette. And manly. Er. Manlier.”
Dave raised an eyebrow before folding his arms on the back of the sofa by Hal and leaning his weight on it, reading the computer screen across the younger man’s shoulder. “Politics. You do know that’s a load of hogwash, don’t you?”
“Mostly.”
“Who’s Vash?”
Hal breathed out in the relief of familiar territory and used Dave’s question as an excuse to load up Google and do a quick image search, trying to find a picture that didn’t fall into the categories of ‘goofy’, ‘cosplay’ or ‘yaoi fangirl’s wet dream’. It took a while. “Him.”
“Right. Cartoon?”
“Anime,” Hal corrected instinctively despite Dave technically being right. “You’d probably hate Trigun, it’s mostly about him fighting without killing anybody.”
“Good luck to him. After my first-kill vomit I tried tranquillisers. Not such a good plan in real life.” He leant across and flicked the mouse wheel, reading the page’s information before laughing. “Evil twin to boot? The resemblance is uncanny.”
The small part of Hal that wasn’t going ow shit fucking ow bastard ow at Dave’s cigarette falling and causing an intense explosion of pain on his arm during its descent took this moment to gawp. A subtle gawp, but a gawp nonetheless.
“Shit, sorry about the arm. I’ll get the cold tap going if you need -“
“I’ll sit it out thanks,” Hal replied before glancing down quickly to check the carpet for any cigarette-induced fire, relief rising when he noticed it had barely smouldered where the butt currently rested. He stamped it out anyway, just in case. “Just another reason why I don’t date smokers.”
“Damn.”
Holy shit. Hal found himself suddenly bright and alert and entirely uncertain as to whether he was confused, having a moment of realisation, or actually suffering a psychotic break.
“Seems everyone’s tempting me to quit smoking these days.”
The scientist had never found himself particularly quick-witted but even so he wasn’t going to stand for his brain’s initial offering of ‘well, it will kill you’. He could wait.
“You’re staring again.”
“You’re not very subtle.” Okay, so he couldn’t wait, and it wasn’t witty, but at least it almost made a real point.
“Stealth doesn’t get you everywhere,” Dave replied with a wink, and it had to be a wink, it was too long, too controlled and too well timed to be an involuntary nervous spasm, and winks meant strange and interesting new things that Hal wasn’t entirely ready for.
Dave leant in a little closer, but not so close as to make Hal come to his reasonably-convinced-of-heterosexuality senses. “I’m bi.”
“Oh.” Hal wondered where the lower half of his vocal chords had gone after nearly squeaking the response. Satisfied for now, or so it seemed, Dave stood up straight and headed for the kitchen whistling a happy tune. Hal turned back to the computer and re-read the politics heading for the sixth time now, sighing in resignation when it stubbornly refused to make sense to him.
Life in the House Of Snake was always going to be strange. But even Hal Emmerich wasn’t smart enough to guess how strange.
The End
Fandom: Metal Gear Solid
Pairing: Otacon/Snake
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 953
Summary: A day in the life of the House of Snake.
Life in the House Of Snake was always going to be strange. Hal Emmerich was smart enough to guess that fact long before volunteering to move in with the man (not that there had been much choice in volunteering with damn near every government in the world curious about the scientists involved in developing Metal Gear, ‘mysterious deaths’ be damned). It didn’t stop certain parts of life with Dave being strange, like the cellar being a miniature training ground and the loft filled near to bursting with cardboard boxes. Anything that came in box form ended up having its packaging stored, and attempts to rectify the situation were usually met with swift and brutal violence.
Today’s new discovery; post-shower Snake, a thoroughly distracting sight for many reasons, not least of which being the strategically placed flannel on the same leather cord holding a knife to his hip. Swiftly moving one’s gaze upward also brought to attention the cigarette he was smoking, and Hal would have bet good money on it being the same cigarette he’d gone into the shower with. The secrets of smokers were beyond the befuddled scientist.
“Staring?”
Hal’s skin went through an intriguingly fast change of colour as he returned to looking at the computer screen. Actually reading it was a little bit beyond his current abilities. “Sorry, I’m not used to mostly naked men in my living space.”
“It’s not yours,” Dave reminded him, ignoring the fact it technically wasn’t his either. “Glad to see you got the heap of trash going again.”
Hal petted the computer to soothe its non-existent feelings. “Just about everyone panics or gets hung up on the fan when overheating alarms go off. Easy to fix if you know how.”
“Sure,” Dave grumbled before walking off into his room, affording Hal a clear view of uncovered master of stealth arse, emerging less than a minute later in casual gear that only looked wholly bizarre because Solid Snake and casual-wear still seemed strange bedfellows.
“What’s with the walking around naked thing?” Hal asked at last in hope that voicing the question would help him get back to processing the heading he’d read at least four times now.
“Ever had someone burst in on you with a gun while you were struggling with a pants’ leg?”
Hal blinked. “That would be a new one.”
“Always do a safety check before letting down your guard. Second chances are rare.”
Trust Solid Snake to sound like an army manual while sporting a fetching post-towel barnet consisting of vertical spikes. “You look like Vash but brunette. And manly. Er. Manlier.”
Dave raised an eyebrow before folding his arms on the back of the sofa by Hal and leaning his weight on it, reading the computer screen across the younger man’s shoulder. “Politics. You do know that’s a load of hogwash, don’t you?”
“Mostly.”
“Who’s Vash?”
Hal breathed out in the relief of familiar territory and used Dave’s question as an excuse to load up Google and do a quick image search, trying to find a picture that didn’t fall into the categories of ‘goofy’, ‘cosplay’ or ‘yaoi fangirl’s wet dream’. It took a while. “Him.”
“Right. Cartoon?”
“Anime,” Hal corrected instinctively despite Dave technically being right. “You’d probably hate Trigun, it’s mostly about him fighting without killing anybody.”
“Good luck to him. After my first-kill vomit I tried tranquillisers. Not such a good plan in real life.” He leant across and flicked the mouse wheel, reading the page’s information before laughing. “Evil twin to boot? The resemblance is uncanny.”
The small part of Hal that wasn’t going ow shit fucking ow bastard ow at Dave’s cigarette falling and causing an intense explosion of pain on his arm during its descent took this moment to gawp. A subtle gawp, but a gawp nonetheless.
“Shit, sorry about the arm. I’ll get the cold tap going if you need -“
“I’ll sit it out thanks,” Hal replied before glancing down quickly to check the carpet for any cigarette-induced fire, relief rising when he noticed it had barely smouldered where the butt currently rested. He stamped it out anyway, just in case. “Just another reason why I don’t date smokers.”
“Damn.”
Holy shit. Hal found himself suddenly bright and alert and entirely uncertain as to whether he was confused, having a moment of realisation, or actually suffering a psychotic break.
“Seems everyone’s tempting me to quit smoking these days.”
The scientist had never found himself particularly quick-witted but even so he wasn’t going to stand for his brain’s initial offering of ‘well, it will kill you’. He could wait.
“You’re staring again.”
“You’re not very subtle.” Okay, so he couldn’t wait, and it wasn’t witty, but at least it almost made a real point.
“Stealth doesn’t get you everywhere,” Dave replied with a wink, and it had to be a wink, it was too long, too controlled and too well timed to be an involuntary nervous spasm, and winks meant strange and interesting new things that Hal wasn’t entirely ready for.
Dave leant in a little closer, but not so close as to make Hal come to his reasonably-convinced-of-heterosexuality senses. “I’m bi.”
“Oh.” Hal wondered where the lower half of his vocal chords had gone after nearly squeaking the response. Satisfied for now, or so it seemed, Dave stood up straight and headed for the kitchen whistling a happy tune. Hal turned back to the computer and re-read the politics heading for the sixth time now, sighing in resignation when it stubbornly refused to make sense to him.
Life in the House Of Snake was always going to be strange. But even Hal Emmerich wasn’t smart enough to guess how strange.
The End
