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“Kaz… would you like to come to my quarters this evening?” Venom asked, his gaze fixed on anything other that Kaz’s face, and his hand fidgeting repetitively in a manor Kaz knows as a calming action when stressed.
Hours later, Kaz keeps replaying those words through in his mind. From how long he hesitated before finally spitting it out, to the failed attempt to mask his own embarrassment, everything about Snake’s behaviour had been the sort of wonderful awkwardness that Snake hides in public—it was the real, genuine him that spoke to Kaz, and that is just part of why he loves Snake so fucking much.
Of course, Snake said more to him, organising the exact time for Kaz’s visit (and confirming that the dork was trying to invite him over for a romantic meal, and not the sort of thing that immediately jumped to Kaz’s mind when Snake spoke), but that first sentence is what runs around his mind on repeat. He wouldn’t say he is excited—can a man as fucked up and depressed as Kazuhira Miller even get excited—but anticipation for his evening with Snake softens his permanent scowl and Kaz finds himself snapping at people less.
As he heads to his quarters after work, winding through the confusing layout of Mother Base, Ocelot springs out from around a corner, making Kaz jump so hard he almost loses his unsteady balance.
“What the fuck, asshole?!” he hisses, smacking Ocelot in the shin with his crutch.
Not even flinching, Ocelot gives him an infuriating little smirk and says, “Was wonderin’ what had got you in such a good mood. Got yourself a date, huh, Miller?”
Kaz rolls his eyes behind his shades. “Mind your own fucking business.”
As Kaz barges past and limps off down the corridor, Ocelot calls after him, “Don’t bring any booze—it interferes with his meds.”
He freezes, stomach flipping as it sinks in that Ocelot fucking noticed, and Kaz resists the urge to yell that he knows Snake can’t drink alcohol on the cocktail of drugs he still has to be on just to function after the coma (because of course Kaz knows everything about Snake’s health and how dare Ocelot act like he doesn’t know), but he keeps his mouth shut. Kaz settles with a glare over his shoulder, and he grits his teeth with Ocelot replies with an even more annoying smirk.
“Have fun, Miller!” Ocelot says, and he saunters off, hand fiddling with one of his many guns.
Sighing, Kaz continues his walk like he wasn’t interrupted. But as he heads off to get ready for his date, Kaz has to wonder something… Doesn’t Ocelot have a massive crush on Big Boss? So why isn’t he jealous in the slightest about the Boss and Kaz’s date? Honestly, Kaz will never understand the bastard.
But he tries to stop thinking about Ocelot, instead wondering what the hell would be appropriate attire for a date with Snake.
---
Venom Snake is not afraid of fire. It is just not possible for a man such as him to shiver at the sight of an open flame or flinch at the slightest hint of smoke. After all, he is Big Boss, a man whose strength is so well known he can’t take two steps on Mother Base without overhearing his men chatting about how strong or awesome he is. The mere idea that Big Boss could be scared of anything is… laughable.
And yes, Snake might have switched to using his electronic Phantom Cigars that don’t need a lighter to ignite or smell like tradition cigars, and he might only smoke real cigars in public on special occasions because that is what Big Boss is supposed to do and it isn’t like he hates flicking on a lighter because the flame sparking into life reminds him of his last moment of consciousness in that helicopter before the fire engulfed him and he fell into a coma for nine years. No, all of that is simply a coincidence. Because Venom Snake is not scared of fire.
So why does he hesitate as he stares down at the packet of old-fashioned matches held in his prosthetic hand, something clenching deep in his abdomen? Why has he waited until the last minute to light the candles, putting it off as he made him and Kaz their food (katsudon, because Kaz once mentioned he had never tried it despite his heritage, and it is surprisingly simple for a man who still can’t perfectly control his prosthetic hand to make) and got dressed into the smartest clothes he owns? Why does he swallow hard and hold his breath like he’s lining up a headshot through a rifle scope, when he’s really just standing next to a pair of freaking candles? Fuck, this is pathetic.
Certain he would just stand here deliberating forever, Snake snaps into action and pulls a match out of the small box. After all, he has used matches and lighters since the accident, and he will look stupid if he is still getting ready when Kaz arrives.
And, despite his stupid apprehension, Snake lights a match with ease, and his anxiety hardly gets any worse. See, he thinks to himself, this is way easier than I was making it out to be. But as he moves the match to the candle, Snake’s grip on the match slips, and the still lit match falls onto the table below. Thankfully, it doesn’t set anything on fire, but the angle of the match and the flame makes it harder to pick up without—
Burning heat bites his thumb and finger, and Snake jumps, his hand jerking back on reflex before he can even process what happened. And then the pain hits, relatively minor pain surging through his now very red fingertips, and Snake hisses, staggering backwards.
His chest flutters, pulse instantly jumping so high Snake can feel his heart pounding against his ribs. It barely hurts, yet Snake’s whole arm trembles, and by the time he notices, the tremors have spread right through his body. Snake drags in a shaky breath, staring down at his burned fingers and wobbly legs and trembling arm, and his heart pounds and pounds and then, just for a second, foul, acrid smoke flickers in his nose.
“Shit!” Snake mumbles, and as the smell comes back, the room seems to heat up, the air hot and oppressive.
But then it vanishes again, leaving him frozen in the middle of the room with minor burns singed against his fingers.
As he could have sworn he saw Paz falling from the chopper and himself screaming mere moments before the heat and agony overwhelmed him, Snake’s legs buckle and he sinks to his knees. He isn’t there—he knows this is his room on Mother Base and those horrors happened nine years ago—but the scenes seem to overlay before him, the heat of the explosion and the searing pain in his forehead as he fell into unconsciousness and everyone’s screams of terror and agony mingling with his clear view of his normal room and the cold floor against his knees. He hates this, knowing this is a panic attack or flashback or something to do with his fucked-up mental state, yet he can’t make it stop. And all because of a tiny flame.
How fucking pathetic.
---
Dressed even smarter than usual (or ‘overdressed’ as Ocelot said when they bumped into each other in an elevator), Kaz finally reaches the door to Snake’s quarters thirty seconds late to their pre-agreed time. Being late has never been his style, but Kaz underestimated how long it would take to get ready (and how long he would deliberate before leaving his quarters, sudden, pathetic nerves twisting in his guts, because this is going to be our first ever date, and he doesn’t want to ruin things after pining for so long), and no matter how much he hurried, he arrives a bit too late. Still, he steadies his breathing and straightens his beret, forcing his composure back, before finally tapping the small screen beside the door.
He can hear the chime even through the door, certain the door chimes on Mother Base are loud enough to wake the dead (too many times he has been awoken by a Diamond Dog medic who just wants to check up on him, but the harsh awakening left Kaz in a foul mood). So when an entire minute passes by and Snake doesn’t open the door, Kaz frowns, puzzled.
Pressing the screen again, Kaz raps his crutch against the door in time to the chime, and calls, “Hey, Boss, are you there?”
But Snake doesn’t open the door.
“Snake?” he calls, louder this time.
Now, Kaz’s nerves have been in pieces ever since Snake rescued him from his own personal hell, so to see Kazuhira Miller outright panic is a fucking rarity. So when his heart races so hard he feels it in his neck and his stomach clenches like he might puke any second, it means something has managed to truly terrify an already anxious man. And it has.
Why isn’t he answering? Kaz thinks, suddenly overwhelmed with images of Snake nearly dead in hospital after the accident or Snake drenched in blood after being shot in battle. Has something happened to him? Fuck fuck fuck…
As he freaks out internally, barely managing to keep up a normal façade (he looks okay, just a bit weary and wobbly, but people as intuitive as Ocelot and Snake could easily see through it), Kaz looks down at the screen. Snake’s door is unlocked, meaning he must still be inside. And although barging into someone’s room without permission is fucking rude (and Kaz would be pissed as hell if someone did the same to him), the realization that he can just enter the room and see if Snake is okay unravels some of the hideous tension in his guts.
And whilst inwardly begging Snake not to be mad at him doing this, Kaz slides the door open and stares into Snake’s room.
“Snake…?” he says, voice hesitant and weak, but he doesn’t know what else to say. Because how does he respond to the scene before him?
He wants to focus on the soft lighting and the carefully set table, complete with flowers and candles, and the delicious smell coming from the small kitchen—all the things that a guy on a first date should love to see. But instead, he just stares at Snake.
Dressed in a suit so handsome it should be illegal, Snake hunches forward on his knees in the middle of the room, looking nothing like the happy if awkward host Kaz was expecting. So he was right; something is terribly wrong.
Silent expect for his ragged, irregular breaths, Snake stares down at the floor, visibly shivering like the temperature has plummeted. Whilst his prosthetic grabs at Snake’s own knee, fingers digging in hard enough to hurt, his other hand sits limp in his lap, palm shining with sweat and… and a roughly-centimeter-sized burn on the pads of both his thumb and forefinger. And Snake just sits there, shivering and staring at nothing.
“Snake?” Kaz says, taking a few tentative steps towards him. If Snake is panicking, which he must be, then Kaz needs to be careful; from his own panic attacks, Kaz and several medics found out the hard way that Kaz will shriek and lash out if approached when he’s panicking, so he needs to consider the chance any attempts to help might make him worse. “Snake, it’s me.”
Slowly, like moving underwater, Snake turns his head. He looks up, eye widening as it focuses on Kaz. But the way Snake stares just makes Kaz worry more, confusion in his expression like Snake just banged his head. He responded, but something still feels very, very wrong.
“Kaz?” Snake whispers, voice weak yet brimming with amazement, like the sight of Kaz is a miracle. He swallows hard, mouth obviously dry, and heaves another shaky breath. “I… I don’t… you really there?”
Kaz frowns slightly, struggling to understand Snake’s very quiet and very jumbled words. “Y-Yeah, I’m really here.”
Snake stares at his hand, twitching his burned fingers. “’M I real? Everything’s so… foggy. I can’t…”
“Yeah, you’re real, Snake,” Kaz says, ignoring a pathetic urge to cry, because sobbing will help no one right now. Awkwardly, and with a jolt of phantom pain that makes the anxiety spike even higher, Kaz eases himself onto his knees, shuffling a bit closer to Snake. “You’re you and you’re in your quarters on Mother Base.”
“G-Good,” Snake mumbles, a weak facsimile of a smile twitching on his lips. “I just… I can’t stop thinking… ‘bout it…” A violent shiver runs through him, and Snake’s prosthetic starts fidgeting again, the action trying to sooth him, but not doing much. “Know ‘m not there, but… it keeps… flickering around me. You, me, Chico, Paz… the fire, the smoke… the pain…” Snake shudders, screwing his eye shut. “It won’t go away.”
“Snake…” Kaz says, stunned. Snake must be flashing back to the night that haunts Kaz’s dreams (other than his ordeal in Afghanistan, at least). Jesus fucking Christ, you poor thing, he almost says, but cuts himself off; that would just sound patronizing and do nothing to help. He swallows hard, the urge to cry burning his eyes, but Kaz shakes it off, shuffling closer. “Snake… do you want me to help ground you?”
He worries Snake won’t understand (‘Grounding’ in this context is something only those with mental health issues tend to say), but Snake nods slowly. “Please, Kaz…”
“Okay. Can I touch you?”
Snake nods again, and Kaz reaches out tentatively, like he’s about to touch a fragile glass sculpture. His fingers touch Snake’s upper arm and Snake flinches, but doesn’t pull away. Eyes fixed on Snake’s face, Kaz gives Snake’s arm a firm squeeze and doesn’t let go.
“Can you feel that?” he asks.
“Y-Yeah…” Snake says, eye still squeezed shut.
“Good,” Kaz says. “Now, take a deep breath and pay attention to every moment. Feel your lungs expand and the cool air rush into your mouth. How does the air taste?”
“Like… katsudon.”
Kaz blinks. So that’s what Snake was cooking. Despite the stressful situation, his stomach flips at the realization of how far Snake went to make something personal for their first date. “Exactly. Now try opening your eye.” When Snake complies, opening his watery eye, Kaz continues, “Now tell me three things you see around the room.”
Shuddering again, Snake moves his head faster than before, and manages to speak faster and clearer as he says, “Uh… Table… clock… your crutch.”
“That’s good,” Kaz says, giving Snake’s arm a gentle rub. “Feeling more real now?”
“Uh huh,” Snake mumbles. “Still like garbage, but… I’m here, y’know?”
“Yeah,” says Kaz, remembering the moments of confusion and blurriness as he snapped out of nightmares, not sure when or where he was. “I know.”
For several minutes longer, they sit on the floor, Kaz rubbing Snake’s arm and helping him calm his breathing, and both watching him gradually, gradually, gradually start to come back to himself. But even as he calms down, Snake is left trembling and exhausted and sporting two now-blistering burns on his hand.
“Kaz… I’m sorry,” Snake says, talking straight to his knees.
“You don’t need to apologize, Boss—”
“No, I do,” Snake says, cutting him off. “I finally worked out how to do this, but I ruined it. sorry for such a fucked-up attempt at a date.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Kaz says. “None of this was your fault. You’re just like me—very fucked up. And it’s okay to break down sometimes. Trust me.”
Snake sighs. “Thanks, Kaz. But still, I… all this because I fucking burned myself with a match. Isn’t that the most pathetic bullshit you’ve ever seen?”
“Snake, shut up,” Kaz says, too het up to worry about being rude to his boss. “All trauma is fucked up. I sometimes wake up and puke all over myself or piss the fucking bed because of nightmares,” he says, face burning with embarrassment, but he doesn’t stop talking. “But I’m still here to help you, to help our home. Trauma and the humiliating shit it brings doesn’t change how fucking amazing you are, Snake. You’ve gotta believe me.”
For a moment, silence hangs in the air, and Kaz starts to worry if his little speech just made things worse. But then Snake shifts on his knees until he faces Kaz and hooks his prosthetic around his neck, pulling Kaz close. Just like many helicopter rides, they’re so close, like personal space isn’t a thing, so close Kaz can smell Snake and see even the tiniest scars on Snake’s face. And, just like all the times he pulled Snake into his personal space, Kaz stares at Snake’s lips, longing to kiss him.
“Kaz…” Snake whispers, tugging Kaz closer still, their chests pressed together and Snake’s arm wrapped around his back. Kaz copies him, hugging Snake close. “Thank you. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Kaz’s heart flutters and he has to force back tears burning in his eyes. He loves this man so much. He wants to kiss him and take him to bed and feel every inch of his body, and comfort Snake and keep him safe from the horrors of the world and the storm in his own mind. He never wants to leave Snake’s side. But he has no idea how to voice this or if he even should, so he just leans the side of his head against Snake’s, feeling Snake’s hair brushing against his skin.
After what feels like forever, Snake pulls back, staring at Kaz’s face (but not his eyes). “Kaz… I… I was gonna ask you later, but… can I kiss you?”
Kaz blinks, shocked, and his reaction manages to get a weak chuckle out of Snake. But then he actually processes those words, words he has longed to hear for so long, and a delighted, joyful smile spreads across his face. And even though it’s as cheesy as hell, Kaz says, “I thought you’d never ask.”
And Snake smiles softly, still too weak and pale but looking like himself again, and awkwardly, carefully and slowly presses their lips together. Kaz melts into the kiss, whispering Snake’s name against his lips, and only pulls back when he remembers something important.
“I’d love to kiss you all day, Boss, but you need to get that hand treated,” Kaz says, staring at the burns on Snake’s hand.
Snake sighs, but holds out his prosthetic to help Kaz to his feet. “Fine. But when we finally get to eat the meal I made for us,” he says, helping Kaz stand upright and handing him his crutch with ease despite his own still-shaky legs, “I want to kiss you again.”
“Fine by me, Snake,” Kaz says, smiling, and so glad Snake is feeling better and that, despite the massive diversion, their date will get back on track. “Fine by me.”