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Like a lightning bolt, he sees it before he hears it. A flash in his vision, then his partner’s scream, then the thunder hits him. He’s out of the van before he can even think, leaving the door open. His shoes sink into the river mud and his half-runs-half-slides his way to the shitty little boat he got for just this purpose.
Well.
Not exactly this purpose.
“Snake?” He screams.
In his mind, there were fewer explosions. On the edge of his vision he can see the dim shape of the tanker hundreds of yards away, lighting up again and again as each bundle of semtex triggers. Snake could already be dead.
According to protocol, he should be in the van. If Snake doesn’t respond in ten minutes, he drives away. That’s what they talked about, that’s what they wrote on paper, but neither of them believed it. Of course neither of them wanted to think about the circumstances that might lead to that plan, but even if it came down to it, Otacon never could.
In the dark when they sat too close together, Otacon’s palm against Snake’s back told him that he’d never leave him behind.
Now, put to the test, he doesn’t think twice. The boat’s motor gives a hearty thump as he cranks the speed up as far as it goes immediately, headlong into the debris rushing towards him. The boat’s controls are covered by a shitty sunshade that’s honestly more of a hindrance than a help without windshield wipers.
“Snake?” He yells again. Without his laptop, he has no way to check Snake’s vitals. All he has was a tiny radar on his watch, and it gives him no indication of whether his partner is alive or not, just that his suit is in one piece. He grips the wheel harder.
The sound of explosives melts into groaning metal, rain, and waves crashing against his tiny boat. As he approaches he’s met with debris, industrial and… organic, swirling along the currents. A few times he thinks he sees a hand or two reaching out for his boat. He keeps his eyes focused on the water ahead of him, ignoring the ominous rumbling of his own boat’s engine.
The point on the radar approaches rapidly, and Otacon almost cries with relief when he sees a flash of familiar fabric. It disappears under the waves almost as soon as he sees it.
“Snake? Snake, please, if you can hear me, I’m here!” He shouts into the codec. Some part of him is aware that the codec works the same whether he yells or not, but he does anyway.
“I’m here, I’m going to throw a life preserver to you. Please, just hold onto it as tight as you can. I’m gonna get you out of here.” He grinds the engine to a screeching halt but the boat’s momentum carries it into a pile of debris, lurching him forward.
Otacon’s head smacks into the wheel and he falls backwards, flat onto the hard surface of the boat. His vision sparks, but he’s back on his feet before he can even see again, fumbling with the life preserver. It’s heavier than he expected, but with trembling legs he manages to get it to the edge of the boat.
Snake’s head breaches the surface a dozen yards away, and before going under again he starts to shout. It cuts off into a gurgle and Otacon screams his name again, tossing the life preserver as far as he can. It falls short a yard or two. Otacon’s stomach lurches, but perhaps seeing him had renewed Snake’s ability to fight, because a moment later his hands shoot out of the water and grab it.
“That’s it, Snake! Just hang on!” He yells, grabbing the rope and hauling it closer. It’s painfully slow, the current moving against them, and a few times one of Snake’s hands loses purchase.
Come on, just a little further, he pleads internally.
Finally, his partner is within arms reach. He loops the rope around a hook a few times and then sticks both hands down to Snake, bracing his legs against the inside of the boat.
Snake’s grip is frighteningly weak but he holds on just the same, clinging with wet hands to Otacon’s forearms as he pulls.
Snake manages to get one knee on the edge of the boat, then the other, and suddenly Otacon is falling flat on his back on the boat deck again with Snake toppled over him.
His first reaction is to laugh. It bursts out of him before he has a chance to react, a howl of laughter that rivals anything that had ever come out of him before. Snake’s chest heaves against him.
“Oh my god,” Otacon gasps between peals of frantic laughter, “Snake?”
Snake pushes off of him weakly, flopping onto the deck beside him. The boat rocks sickeningly, making the sky above them spin. He’s still gripping Otacon’s shoulders tightly, and pulls himself closer. Otacon’s skin stings at the cold water soaking through his clothes, but he can’t take his eyes off Snake. He’s clearly holding back a cough, and his face is frighteningly pale, but he’s looking at Otacon with such intensity that it feels like fire.
Before he can speak again, Snake pulls him close and pressed a rough kiss to his cheek. His skin is so cold Otacon barely realizes it was a kiss until he breaks into a cough, pulling away to hack the water out of his lungs.
The sound of it snaps him back to reality. He sits upright and turns Snake on his side so if he coughs up more water he won’t choke, then runs back to the wheel.
He steers them back to shore where the van was parked, glancing every so often at his partner on the deck of the boat. With each rock and bump Snake groans. The adrenaline hasn’t quite worn off yet, but Otacon’s hands begin to shake. When they reach the shore he nearly collapses in relief, but he knows he can’t celebrate yet.
Otacon ties the boat to the dock and then runs to Snake.
“Can you stand?” He asks urgently. Searchlights have begun to stream down over the tanker’s remains and he knows he needs to get them out of there as soon as possible. Snake groans but gives a slow nod.
“How far is the van?” He croaks. His voice is barely a whisper, thick with water.
“Not far at all, I promise. It’s just up the hill a little, and then you’re safe.”
He puts his hands under Snake’s armpits and hauls him upright. Together they stagger up the hill. Otacon marvels at Snake’s ability to just keep going, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He deposits Snake in the passenger seat, throws a towel at him, and rushes back down the hill. He unties the boat and shoves it away from the dock, hoping that it will get wrecked in the debris. They really don’t need any more evidence of their involvement in this incident being found.
He watches it get carried away by the currents for just long enough to convince himself it will be washed away, then scrambles back up the slope to the van. He shoves his laptop in the back and slams the door shut, making Snake jump. He winces but starts the car. The tires squeal in the dirt for a moment before he gets them back on the road.
Dave’s skin is still frigid when they make it back to the safehouse. Hal had helped him out of the sneaking suit, and now he lies in the tub while Hal runs the hot water. It burns as it meets his skin, but he doesn't have the energy to move. Each breath he takes is thick, and he’s been keeping attempts at speech to a minimum. Hal’s worried eyes are on him, but he doesn’t speak either.
Dave looks down at the water slowly rising to meet his skin. He barely has enough room, knees pressing against the walls of the tub. The faint impressions of the straps on the suit still lay on his skin. Many years ago, he would’ve been ashamed of being naked in front of another person. Even in the military where privacy was a forgotten word, he’d hated it. It wasn’t so much that Hal was different(although indubitably, it was easier with him), it was some combination of exhaustion and acceptance. If someone had something to say about whether he was a real man or not, he’d always been prepared to fight back. Had to, often enough. But Hal never questioned him.
Dave clears the water from his throat.
“Thanks, Hal.”
Hal starts, like he hadn’t realized he was still looking at him.
“Of course,” He said softly, “I’d never leave you.”
That hits Dave right in whatever soft piece of heart he’s got left, and he’s speechless. He bites his lip to hold back the soft cry that tries to escape. It doesn’t stop the tears. Hal’s used to him crying now, but he puts a hand on his shoulder anyway.
His palm is warm and mercifully dry. It means a lot, too, because he knows Hal doesn’t do contact if he can help it.
“I really thought I might lose you, Dave.” Hal’s voice quivers. He leans his cheek down against Hal’s hand, who moves up to cup his face. Dave can’t hold back the sob that escapes him then.
Hal rushes forward, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. Dave doesn’t have the energy to sit up, but he buries his face in the crook of Hal’s neck and cries. It feels good, even though the motion makes his lungs ache. Hal hiccups, his arms trembling. They sob against each other for a few minutes, and for a strange moment it’s the most peaceful Dave has felt in a long time.
Hal makes him feel like he can express himself fully, without judgment. No matter his peers' reaction, he’s always been one to speak his mind or communicate in whatever way works for him, but he’s never been able to do it so freely. He’d never met another man who would let him cry like this.
They pull away, far too soon, Dave thinks, and Hal’s eyes are red.
“I’m sorry, Dave, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go on this mission!” Hal says, and he looks like he’s going to burst into tears again.
“It’s alright, Hal.”
“No, it’s not! You almost died, and it’s my fault. I should’ve known something was fishy! I- I should’ve known as soon as I got that email.”
“Hal,” Dave rasps, clasping one wet hand on his partner’s shoulder, “Listen to me. I know you wouldn’t put me in danger on purpose. Sometimes the intel is bad, sometimes we fuck up.”
“I should have known.” Hal repeats, shaking his head. Dave slides his hand to cup his cheek.
“We got out of it, and we got the pictures. And I’m here.” He rasps. Alive , he doesn’t add. Hal needs the reminder even less than he does.
“I’m so sorry.” Hal says again. He slumps to the floor, leaning his head against Dave’s shoulder. His hair is damp and smells like the river, the same way Dave is sure he does too.
“It’s okay. We made it, thanks to you.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Hal’s voice sounds so broken and raw that it feels like glass in Dave’s skin. Dave wants to disagree, but he can’t. Hal is right, but they’ve ignored that for as long as they made Philanthropy. Hell, he’s been ignoring it since the day he was born.
“I know we’re trying to stop other people from getting hurt, but Dave…” Hal hiccups, “I… we’re partners. I can’t do this without you.”
“Why d’you think I kissed you?” The words fall out of his mouth before he can think, “Wasn’t just cause I was happy to be alive. Well, I guess it was. But it was because it was you who saved me, Hal. I knew you were coming for me, that you wouldn’t leave me for dead.”
“What,” Hal says weakly, “I didn’t think you did it on purpose.” There’s so much to what Dave just said that his head spins.
“You didn’t think I kissed you on purpose?” There’s a tinge of amusement in Dave’s voice.
“I don’t know!” Hal’s voice raises in pitch. He picks himself up off Dave’s shoulder and looks at him incredulously. His cheeks are pink, “You were like, 90% river water! I wasn’t expecting you to be aware of your surroundings.”
“Mm, I guess I wasn’t aware of much. I knew it was you, though. I heard you calling to me, and I just went towards your voice.”
“God, Dave,” Hal chokes out, “Are you trying to kill me?” He buries his face in his trembling hands.
“There wouldn’t be much point to that after you rescued me.” Dave gives his best attempt at a grin despite how much every part of him aches. The look on Hal’s face makes his heart twist.
“So… you kissed me about it?” Hal says, finally.
“Yeah. Felt like a decent way to thank you for saving my life. I wasn’t really able to speak.” He shrugs. Hal chuckles.
“Well, not to be rude, but it wasn’t a very good kiss.” He jokes. Dave snorts.
“You gonna let me have a second chance?” He asks. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the lighter mood shatters and his chest is filled with anxiety. He has no idea if the circumstances for this intimacy have passed. This could be a misstep that will at the least make things awkward in the long term, and at worst Hal will get up and leave him by himself in the bathtub, disappearing out into the night.
“Of course.” Hal says instead.
Air floods back into Dave’s chest. He shuts his eyes involuntarily as the wave of emotion crashes over him. In it, there's relief, shock, fear, joy… It threatens to burst his lungs. He lets out a slow, shivering breath before opening his eyes again to find Hal staring at him.
His face is soft despite the harsh shadows the fluorescent lights cast on his features. A small, hopeful smile floats on his lips, and Dave reaches out to meet him.
His muscles scream at the simple act of leaning over the side of the tub, but he shoves through it. He needs Hal to know how much he cares.
Hal meets him there, supporting as much of his weight as he can from his awkward position on the floor. Their lips meet and warmth even better than the bath water floods through him. The fluttering feeling in his chest threatens to consume him as Hal kisses him slowly. Then his stomach spasms and he pulls back to cough.
Hal is looking at him worriedly now, “I guess that can wait until later, huh.”
Dave tries to say ‘Yeah’, but it comes out as a strangled rasp. It makes him break into another coughing fit. When it subsides, he leans his head against the wall of the tub and closes his eyes.
“Dave?” Hal asks.
He opens one eye in response.
“Do you want to keep doing this?” His face is solemn. Dave wants to spill his heart out to him and say that in a perfect world, they’d never have to think about their work again. They could go live in a nice house somewhere and live a quiet life with normal jobs, maybe get a few dogs. They could date, get married, hell, have a kid.
In a better world they could walk away whenever they felt like it. The knowledge of everything in their lives up until that point wouldn’t haunt them, they’d be able to sleep at night. In a better world they would dream about the future instead of trying to dismantle the nightmares of the past.
In a better world, Hal wouldn’t even have to ask. But he doesn’t say anything, because the ache in his chest is too great. Instead he slides a wet hand onto the edge of the tub, palm up, for Hal to take or leave.
A moment later, Hal’s dry hand finds his and squeezes.