Work Text:
“Shit, shit, shit,” Otacon hissed.
He ran as fast as he could towards H-Strut where the explosion had gone off moments ago. He’d received a terse, borderline panicked Codec call from Snake about the C4, and then nothing. The ensuing blast had sent him crashing into a desk, and the resulting dizzy spell threatened to send him lurching directly into enemy sight as he picked his way haphazardly through the damage.
Snake hadn’t exactly told him to head towards the blast site. In fact, it would be reasonable to assume that, given an appropriate amount of time, he probably would have done that thing where he yelled at Otacon to stay put under any circumstances. It didn’t matter now though, because he couldn’t hear Snake saying anything and he was close to full-on panic.
Had Snake made it out in time? Had he gotten enough of a head start? Should he be concerned about the kid- Raiden- at all? Otacon didn’t even know his Codec number-
Otacon swung hard into a right turn down the corridor to- was it G-Strut? He hadn’t been paying attention- and tripped over something, something large. He tucked his arms in to spare his wrists but didn’t have enough time to cover his face; his jaw came down hard on the floor, his whole head shaken by the impact and all he registered was sharp pain and the taste of blood.
He lay there a moment, sprawled over whatever mass he’d tripped over, and watched little droplets of blood drip from his face. He couldn’t tell if he’d bit through his mouth, had a nosebleed, or both. Otacon dragged himself forward with a groan, wobbling upright and turning to see what had been in his way.
It looked like a man’s body.
Otacon reached out hesitantly and tipped the man’s shoulder towards him to see his face. He felt like his ribcage would crack from how hard his heart was hammering, afraid of what exactly he was going to find. The man’s face fell limply towards him and he sucked in a breath.
It was Snake.
In any other situation he would have laughed; he’d literally tripped over exactly the person he’d gone out looking for. Now though, he could only press his fingers to Snake’s neck and wait anxiously for a pulse.
There it was. Slow, but steady and more importantly, there.
Snake looked like absolute hell. There was soot coating one side of his body, his arm had a tattered, bloody bandage slipping off, and he was liberally peppered with small bullet grazes and bruises. He figured from the way Snake’s hair was dark and damp with blood, and the tell-tale spatter of blood on the wall, that he’d been knocked into it with some force.
Otacon shook Snake gently. It wouldn’t be long before a sentry came by to inspect the damage and he wouldn’t be able to drag an unconscious Snake all the way over to Shell 1. Not without being spotted, or before Shell 2 started to flood, or collapse, or- he couldn’t let himself get distracted by disaster scenarios just then. He needed Snake to come to long enough to get them to some kind of safe room.
“Snake? Snake!”
Snake blinked groggily and tried to sit up, hissing painfully. He stared as though he were having a hard time recognizing what he was looking at.
“Otacon?”
“Yep, it’s me.”
“…s’posed to stay put,” Snake managed.
Otacon looped an arm around his back and pulled him upright. “Well, today’s your lucky day; I didn’t listen. Think you can stand up?”
“Rather not.”
“That’s a shame, ‘cause we need to get the hell out of here,” Otacon said, heaving Snake to his feet with no small amount of effort.
“What happened to your face?”
“It’s bleeding, go figure. Now let’s go!”
Snake stood, bracing himself against Otacon’s bony shoulders. They hobbled along, heading towards one of the struts in Shell 1. Otacon could hear the ominous sound of rushing water and creaking support bars in the distance.
Otacon panted with the strain of supporting Snake.
He tried to keep himself reasonably composed and not betray just how tired he was- if Snake exerted himself, he’d black out again, and then Otacon would have to deal with a significant amount of unconscious soldier. Snake’s legs buckled and dragged every few steps, necessitating that Otacon hoist him upward and guide him along. It was exhausting.
“Hangin’ in there?” Otacon said.
“Yep,” Snake said, missing a step and pitching forward slightly, “doin’ great.”
Otacon rolled his eyes. “Sarcasm; very helpful. Good to know your sunny disposition remains intact.”
“Happy to help.”
“Shut up, before you pass out,” Otacon said. Snake chuckled weakly.
Eventually they’d managed to drag themselves across the bridge to another strut, D-Strut, it read on the side of the building. Otacon breathed a sigh of relief- D-Strut was in Shell 1.
By the time they’d snuck into the Sediment Pool building, Snake could carry himself a little with some difficulty. It felt like hours of holding their breath and ducking behind walls before they made it to C-Strut. Otacon braced Snake’s arm against his shoulders again and led him to the back of the spacious dining hall, safely out of view.
He guided Snake to sit up against the wall, patting his shoulder.
“Hang tight a sec, I’m gonna grab some things. We’re lucky this room’s full of supplies.”
Snake nodded, wincing and letting his head rest against the wall. Otacon frowned and did a sweep of the dining hall, gathering up anything that looked useful. He returned with a pan of water, some clean rags, a cup, and some rations. He hoped Snake had found some first-aid supplies by then- looking over his cut-up arm, he might have used them all already.
“Here,” Otacon said, offering Snake the cup of water. Snake pulled a face and waved it away.
“Reasonable sure I’m gonna puke,” Snake said, “will be more sure of that if I drink anything right now.”
“Shit,” Otacon said and pushed up his glasses. Snake smirked; he always poked fun at the angry way Otacon pushed up his glasses when he was frustrated.
“How’re you going to keep up with this mission if you have a concussion?” Otacon said. He held Snake’s head by the jaw and turned it back and forth, checking for cuts and bruises.
Snake gestured with his injured arm. “Well, I’ve made it this far with blood loss. Figure I’ve got, eh, three more major injuries in me before I’m out. Besides, we’ve got that kid working with us, kinda. Sorta. Still, he’s better n’ nothing.”
“Barely,” Otacon said, dipping a rag in water and cleaning off Snake’s face, “I sure hope your faith in his ability to disarm bombs isn’t misplaced, or this side of the Shell’s getting blown to sea-level, too.”
Otacon wished, not for the first time in the last few years, that he had a little more medical experience. He managed to clean the worst of the blood and soot from Snake’s face and unwrapped the tattered bandage from his arm. At the very least, Otacon had the good sense to grab a bottle of disinfectant from the labs earlier.
“Thought you were s’posed to be the optimist here,” Snake mumbled, flinching when Otacon set to scrubbing the dried blood and dirt from the laceration on his arm.
“I’m supposed to be the scientist,” Otacon said drily, “and from a scientific standpoint, this whole operation is sort of going to hell.”
Snake laughed, with a few labored breaths, weakly clapping Otacon on the shoulder.
“Shit, see? You’re spending too much time around me.”
That made Otacon smile despite himself.
“Well, I can’t help it. You’re just such a charming bastard. Now give me any bandages or meds you’ve got, and- any other injuries I should be aware of?”
Snake pulled out a handful of bandage rolls and pill packets. “Nope.”
Snake shouted when Otacon poured the disinfectant liberally over his arm.
“Jesus, watch it!”
“Don’t be such a baby,” Otacon said, “and turn your head.”
Snake gave him a quizzical look but complied. He yelped in surprise when Otacon held his jaw still again and poured some more disinfectant on the back of his head, leaving his hair dripping with disinfectant tinged pink with blood.
“You could fucking warn me!” Snake said.
“If I warned you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I don’t need to remind you that this isn’t the first time I’ve had to patch you up. Just be grateful I’m not digging a bullet out again.”
Snake grunted, which Otacon decided to take as proof that he had won that argument. He wrapped the clean bandage around Snake’s arm, noting that he’d have to stitch one of the cuts closed later, when he had time. He ripped a strip of cloth off the rag and wadded it against the bleeding spot on the back of Snake’s skull and wrapped bandages snugly around his forehead to keep the cloth in place.
The lack of resistance Snake was putting up suddenly made him concerned, more concerned than finding him unconscious. It wasn’t like Snake would ever let anything be easy, not if he could help it.
“That’s gonna look stupid,” Snake said quietly, flicking his eyes up to his bandaged forehead.
The sound of him bitching honestly made Otacon feel a little better for once.
“Well, I’d rather you look stupid than dead, but feel free to take it off once the bleeding lets up, if you’re going to insist on vanity.”
Otacon picked through the packages of pills Snake had handed over.
“Shit. These are all just diazepams,” Otacon huffed. He hated missions that didn’t let them bring anything other than the bare minimum of supplies for exactly this reason. Would it kill anyone to keep some simple painkillers on hand?
“Well, you might as well take one. Bet your head hurts like hell right now.”
“Not sure that’s a great idea,” Snake said, “shit makes me drowsy.”
“Because you’re just so energetic and helpful in this condition. It’s not like taking a nap is going to kill you, Snake.”
“No, but it might get someone else killed. Someone’s got to keep an eye on that Raiden kid, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the people who sent him in here.”
“He’s a highly trained soldier; I think he can handle himself for twenty minutes. And since when was our mission concerned with him at all? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were going soft, Snake.”
“Oh, don’t be so surprised, going soft is exactly how I got myself into this Philanthropy mess with you in the first place. You, with your big shiny cartoon eyes and your ‘We could help save the world, Snake-‘“
Otacon pressed a diazepam into his hand and rolled his eyes.
“Hilarious impression. Now take the damp pill and rest for a while. We’ve got at least until the kid calls to tell you whether or not this place is going up in flames.”
Snake frowned but didn’t move from his spot. After a moment he just sighed and slid his M9 over to Otacon. He only winced internally when he took the tranquilizer gun; Snake had insisted on training Otacon in rudimentary gun-handling for just these types of situations. While he wasn’t going to qualify for Special Forces any time soon, he didn’t run the serious risk of shooting himself in the leg anymore.
Otacon was grateful that he’d remembered just how much he’d loathed handling lethal firearms, no matter how much the current situation might have called for it. He was also struck, as he almost always was no matter how long they’d been working together, by the immense gesture of trust.
It wasn’t exactly a small thing, having a legendary soldier hand you his gun with the silent understanding that you wouldn’t let him get shot in his sleep. Especially when you were the guy who regularly fell on his face in the snow walking dogs and burnt fried eggs.
Neither of them said anything about this though; Snake just took the pill and some water, and slipped down to lay on his back on the floor. Otacon slipped off his lab coat and folded it up, prodding it under Snake’s head. Snake cracked one eye open and flashed him a lopsided smile.
Otacon smiled and gave him a clumsy salute with the M9.
“Otacon?”
“Yeah?”
“Clean up your damn face already. You look like a vampire,” Snake mumbled.
Otacon touched his face gingerly, remembering how he’d bashed his face on the floor when he’d found Snake. He chuckled to himself- he had to remember to tell Snake about that later- and used a rag to try and scrub the blood off, listening to Snake’s quiet breathing as he finally fell asleep.
--
It was well over thirty minutes later when Snake came to, shaking his head clear and calling Raiden as soon as it seemed like he could focus. It didn’t seem like a long enough time for all the blood-loss and concussion, but Otacon knew they didn’t exactly have time to spare. It would have to be enough; it was better than nothing, anyway.
Otacon only half-listened to their conversation; he already knew about the hostages, the president, H-Strut flooding, all the nasty details. He busied himself instead with gathering up what supplies and rations he had and tied them up in a cloth for Snake to take, and making a mental note of the areas they might find some mode of air transport for the hostages. For the hostages and his sister.
Snake stood up, bracing himself against the wall for a moment.
“Alright, I’m going to go check H-Strut, see if there’s anything I missed before it all goes underwater. Find any clues to where to find Emma.”
Otacon nodded, swallowing down the unease at the idea of reuniting with his sister and at letting Snake go trotting off injured. Wouldn’t be the first time, he reasoned.
“O-okay. I’ll make my way over to the heli-pad and see what’s over there. Hopefully they’ve got something I can wrap my head around.”
Snake nodded in return and gathered up his supplies, checking the arsenal of weaponry on him before he made his way to the mess hall’s exit. Otacon put his labcoat back on and followed. Snake had just about made it to the doorway when Otacon reached out and grabbed his shoulder. For a second, he wasn’t even sure why he’d done it; it had just felt like there was something he badly needed to say.
“Snake,” he said haltingly.
Snake turned and waited.
“Look, just…be careful, okay? You’ve knocked yourself around enough.”
Snake’s expression softened a fraction and he clapped Otacon on the shoulder. “You worry too much, you know that?”
Otacon smiled wryly.
“I’m serious, you- you better not pull anything like back on that tanker, okay? Almost losing you once was enough. Besides…we don’t even have a boat this time.” Otacon tried to laugh to lighten the statement, but he ended up just feeling unusually exposed, like he’d just given up a little too much information. It felt a little foolish, even; it wasn’t like it was the last they’d see each other…well, with any luck.
Snake turned in the hallway, glancing back and forth to make sure they were alone, and stared at Otacon in an open, curious way. He walked over to him, only staggering once, and clasped Otacon’s hand in his. Well, this is new, Otacon thought, swallowing hard. Though he couldn't deny it had calmed the uncomfortable fluttering in his chest.
“I’ll be okay,” Snake said and squeezed his hand for emphasis, “promise.”
He had the same tone and expression he usually saved for talking to dogs and small children. From anyone else it probably would have been insulting, but Otacon didn’t miss the significance coming from him.
It only made it more surprising when Snake swept him up in a brief, awkward hug that lifted him off the ground. Snake put him back down just as quickly and Otacon let their hands slip apart, trying to hide his reluctance to break the contact entirely.
“I’m holding you to that, Snake. Meet up again when I’ve found some transport.”
“Radio me if you need anything.”
They turned and headed off in their separate directions, Otacon resisting the urge to look back ever few seconds. He heard Snake shout down the hallway.
“Watch your damn nose, too, Otacon! You know bleeding will give away your position.”
Otacon shook his head, grinning, and made his way over to the heli-pad.