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Snake never had a family. Not one by blood or bone. His father left the picture when he was just an egg, and his mother? She never cared for her predator son. He took after his father's venomous ways, not her simple Garden Snake self.
He had two siblings at hatch. Twins. Both older. Both non-venomous.
They were quickly separated from him. His sisters got nice rooms, gentle affection, loving gifts on their birthdays.
Snake? He got the small room in the back of the house. He was lucky if his mother told him "good morning". His birthday was never discussed. Never celebrated. Always tucked under the rug. And the one time it was celebrated? The one time a party was thrown?
...no one came.
Snake abandoned that life quickly. He didn't need them, anyway. It was rough for the first year, a 16-year-old snake like himself alone in the world? Roughing it in the streets? Finding alleyways and park benches and libraries to sleep in? It was hard, he won't lie. At least not to himself.
But it got easier. He made it easier. Sharpened fangs and dripping venom and angry swearing made it easier. Made him scary to the outside world.
He's a predator, after all. He's not supposed to be cute and cuddly. This is his role in life, and Snake fills it perfectly. Performs it well. Like a true actor.
But now, over 40 years later, he has one. A family to call his own. It's like a hole in his cold, dead heart was finally filled the day he met Wolf. One that made him able to smile again. Truly smile. None of that "mean sneer" bullshit, no, Wolf made him laugh. Made him cry laughing in the front seat of his stolen car. Made him laugh so hard his ribs hurt, and his stomach was cramped, but he laughed.
That's when Snake knew he loved him. He finally got to learn how it felt. All because of this stupid, stupid wolf, and his stupid, stupid heart.
For a while, Snake was content with the two of them. Snake was Wolf's mentor, a friend, family, but he couldn't figure out the placements. Not yet.
Then, Wolf brought along a new friend. Potential came from Shark, Snake knew it well.
Shark, apparently, worked as a barkeep, but his truest passion lay in acting and performance. Along with costume work. A real seamstress, that one. Snake was impressed at how quickly he whipped together outfit after outfit, disguise after disguise for himself, Wolf, and Snake. It made heists easier. It made Shark happy.
Snake thought of Shark as a brother. A real brother. One that he could argue with, but always know he wasn't truly hated. Wasn't truly despised. A true friend.
Meaning, when Piranha rolled around, that was his son.
Maybe he jumped the gun a bit too quickly in claiming the wild, trigger-happy fish as his son, but it was the truth! At least to that slightly less cold, slightly less dead heart of his.
Piranha fought tooth and nail for them, helped them make it out alive, all because he saw people in need and wanted to help. He was noble, he was loyal, he looked up to all of them. He wasn't a kid, but he was a guy who needed guidance.
So, he was Snake's son from then on. He helped him get smarter, more clever, and while most of the lessons didn't stick, the ones that did and the ones Snake got to see him use made his heart melt in such a mushy, gushy way, he almost thought he was dying.
Tarantula was his daughter when she appeared, and she wormed her way into his family fast.
Wrong place, wrong time. That's how they met. Snake couldn't help it. It was a moment of weakness, and he knows not to make it personal (he tells Wolf all the time, but does he listen? nooo...), but he saw a small girl, helpless and alone, unable to keep up with the rest of them. She needed help. She needed someone.
Snake grabbed her in his hat, tucked her away under his head, and slithered into the car right as Wolf hit the gas. She was home before anyone got to meet her. They had to go fast, after all. So there was no opportunity to leave her behind.
Not that Snake would. Tarantula-
("Webs." She told them, sitting with a thimble full of juice at their shitty kitchen table. Furniture wasn't much of a concern to them. "You can call me Webs.")
-had cemented a place in his family, and it was as his daughter. His smallest. His weakest. His smartest by far. He didn't need to teach her much to get her accustomed to their lifestyle, to their family.
She settled in just fine, bickering with her brother, and bonding with her uncle, and messing around with Snake.
It should be obvious, but Snake viewed himself as the father of the group. The mentor. The man who's supposed to hold things together, keep things afloat.
He wouldn't be like his father. He wouldn't abandon them. Walk out on them. He wouldn't leave them behind. Snake would be ride or die for the rest of his life, because this is his family. That's his brother. That's his son, his daughter.
And Wolf...that's his husband. The group's mother. He couldn't leave him for the world.
After all, Wolf had the biggest heart around. Where Snake would count funds and restock the fridge and do the heavy lifting where there needed heavy lifting, Wolf filled a different role.
Wolf patched wounds, physical and emotional. He was a shoulder to cry on. A side to lean on. He was a listener, an advice-giver. He was a supporter, sly and sneaky, but still kind to his family. Careful with his family. He loved them just as much as Snake does. Maybe a little more.
So, no. Snake never had a family. Never needed one, not really. He didn't need his older sisters, or his absentee father, or his avoidance mother. He didn't need to be alone, either.
All he needed...was his family.
His real family.
The one he got to choose for himself.
("So that's it, huh? Your lifelong friends? We're just holdin' you back!?"
"YEAH, MAYBE YOU ARE!")
And he wasn't giving it up for anything.
Not money.
("You're just jealous you're not in on the heist of the century!")
Not power.
("Go bad?"
Marmalade's paw felt disgusting on Snake's scales.
"Or go home~"
He never even said it right.)
Nothing.
("The ol' switcheroo."
The explosion tickled his back with the wind that blew from it. It just made his smile wider. More vicious. More...
Proud.)
Because Snake can proudly say, he loves them. Every single one of them. No matter how ridiculous they can get.