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Chapter Text

A freakish and bizarre nightmare that felt like it had PS1-era-appropriate graphics and a top-down POV was quickly interrupted when our "hero," Solid Snake, who in reality is just a high school student assigned to do some homework, is stirred awake by the sound of his alarm clock, which still works even after he has chucked it at the wall multiple times by now. He rubs his face and tries to quietly convince himself that he will think of a plan to get him out of this, but he knows that he is too old to be faking that he is too sick to go to school today at this point, plus his brothers would either immediately call him out on it or try and do the same trick as well, which would not end well for anyone. He tries to remember what day it is; he had PE class yesterday and felt way more groggy and unprepared to get through another school day than he does now, so today must be Tuesday. One day closer to Friday than Monday, but still a day that definitely ranks low on the totem pole. 

"Damn..." Snake said to himself as he begrudgingly set his feet on the ground, still trying to gather his thoughts and remember what his name was and where exactly he was supposed to be today. 

Snake heads to the upstairs bathroom down the hall in a manner that is equally as groggy and uncoordinated as his technique for getting out of bed was. He noticed how the door was ajar and the light was off, which meant that both of his brothers, Liquid and Solidus, were already far ahead of him in terms of seizing the day. On one hand, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to awkwardly wait right outside the bathroom while he tapped his foot like a total dope, but on the other hand, this meant that both his brothers were currently downstairs seated at the kitchen table and would most certainly see to it that their opinions that pertained to the lackadaisical nature of Snake's usual morning routine were household knowledge. Snake had done this whole song and dance countless times before; to him, this just simply is his truth at this point. When he gets to the bathroom sink and splashes some warm water on his face, he tries to remember if his toothbrush was either the black one or the very, very dark gray one, but in the end he figures that the results of his teeth will generally be the same no matter which one he uses, so he just bites the bullet and uses the black one. He regrets it immediately. 

The absolutely ancient stairs make these horrid creaking sounds, another piece of Snake's mental recalling of his daily routine and one of the reasons he can almost never sneak out late at night, as Snake finally makes his descent to face what this dreaded Tuesday has in store for him. The best he could do was an old, battered pair of jeans and a faded Pixies graphic tee that is still two sizes too big for him at this point, but they smelled the least like cigarette smoke, so they would have to do for today. His iconic bandana, he claims he wears only to keep the hair out of his eyes, was obviously a must. Obviously. He can already hear the infinitely irritating sound of Liquid just absolutely devouring a bowl of cereal, while Solidus, meanwhile, is intently reading through a legit physical newspaper, either skimming the Financial Times or looking for any updates on what has been going on in Liberia, for some reason. These are some of the last people Snake would ever want to be greeted with on a sucky Tuesday morning like this one, especially since they literally share his face, and that is always going to be annoying, but until he can move out or Big Boss eventually kicks him out on the curb, he just has to deal with it. 

"So, who let the vagabond in again? I thought we made sure to triple-check the deadbolt every night." Liquid, who now has a prominent milk mustache that is rivaled only by Solidus's bizarre attempt at growing a mustache to appear more "mature," makes haste of making an audible note of Snake's appearance, which is far from his Sunday best. Solidus finally manages to break his eyes away from whatever it was he was currently engrossed with in his precious newspaper and lets just enough air blow out of his nose to let Snake know that he too is not exactly all that impressed with Snake's turnout this morning.

"Got something you want to say, Mr. President?" Snake asked as he ripped open a packet of stale Pop-Tarts that he fully intended on being the only thing he ate this morning. Solidus, who was never a fan of having his position as the class president and leader of the student body used to demean or mock him in any way, simply rolled his eyes and resumed reading an article that went into full detail on all the reasons as to why eye patches would be coming back into style soon. It was simply inevitable. 

Snake, who was equal parts satisfied with how little Solidus wanted to entertain his snide comments and a little disappointed that he would not have the opportunity to use some more of his golden material on his baby brother right now, leaned against the kitchen countertop and let himself simply enjoy one of the two stale Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tarts that would be comprising the entirety of his breakfast this morning. He doesn't even mind the fact that they went "bad" two weeks ago; you could probably cite him making the claim he prefers them that way.

"Is BB getting an early start in the garage or something?" Snake asked after having finally noticed that his absolute darling of a father, Big Boss, wasn't also seated at the table with one of his iconic cups of black coffee in one hand and the comics section folded up for convenience in the other, as he would have almost certainly made a comment on how utterly unprepared Snake was for the day by now in a way that one could almost for a second confuse for genuine fatherly concern.

"Big Boss is giving Uncle Venom a ride to work, again." Solidus replied, having apparently deemed his brother's persistent obliviousness to the world at large around him worthy of his acknowledgement. 

"So... Uncle Venom has to ride bitch?" Snake pondered aloud with a slight chuckle that felt just a tad too forced, almost as if he was trying to forcefully inject some sort of amusement into this dull morning of his. The visual of his uncle, who always wants to be treated seriously and with just as much respect and reverence as the Big Boss himself, even though he’s currently working at the same high school Snake and his brothers attend as a janitor right now, a job Big Boss had to pull some strings for in the first place on Venom’s behalf, being required to wrap his arms, including his iconic bionic arm, around an unamused and infinitely ticked off Big Boss, was certainly a comical one for Snake at this moment.

"I would have to presume so, yes." Solidus tacked it on as he pulled out his fob watch; the thing doesn't even work anymore; he just likes how it looks when he uses it in public with a pensive face and a furrowed brow that he's made sure to practice in the mirror plenty of times. 

"Please, we all know that you're secretly jealous." Piped up Liquid, who let his now empty cereal bowl hit the table with a loud and unpleasant clinking sound; he has no intention of even putting it in the sink.

"I'm not five, Liquid. Besides, he barely even uses that thing anymore. Should just sell it for parts at this point..."

"He'd probably lose his mind if he didn't have it to distract himself while dealing with you two all the time." Added Solidus while he made sure he had everything he needed in his bookbag.

Snake instinctively shook his head; he was used to Solidus always trying to keep his brothers in their place while he propped himself up as the "mature" and "responsible" one and knew there was no real point in arguing about it a time like this. 

The sight of Liquid having already finished breakfast and Solidus himself making the finishing touches of getting prepared for the day gets Snake thinking; he glances at his left arm to see what time it is, only to remember he doesn't even own a watch, so he redirects his attention to the clock in the living room to adequately gauge just how close he'll be cutting it this time. 

"Alright, I gotta meet up with Otacon; don't wait up."

"Yeah, don't want to keep your boyfriend waiting too long; you know how easy it is to get the waterworks going with him." Liquid replies while leaning backwards in his chair, trying to find that position of being perfectly balanced while he runs his hand through his hair. He checks to see if Solidus found any amusement from this.

Snake, clearly not amused, grabs the closest thing he can, which is an apple in this case, and promptly chucks it at Liquid, hitting him square in the right arm and causing him to nearly fall off his chair entirely. Even the persistently self-serious and self-aggrandizing Solidus struggles to stifle his own laughter as he bears witness to such a sight, already making this a considerably memorable Tuesday already. 

Liquid, painfully embarrassed and thoroughly discombobulated before even making it to his homeroom, glares at Solidus while he tries to steady himself and salvage some sort of dignity, attempts to get the last word in, only to realize that Snake has already left. 

Solidus, with an amused look on his face stemming from how he didn't even have to do anything for this outcome to occur, walks over and promptly picks up the apple, the very same one used to ruin Liquid's day before it even started, and gives it a quick rub on his jacket that is meant to remove some of the wax, but really he's just deciding to be extra. He knows that the fact it was used to humiliate Liquid in such a manner means it will taste all the better later. 

Liquid remains seething on the kitchen floor, the gears in his head being pushed to their absolute limit as he thinks of hundreds, if not thousands, of ideas of how he's going to get back at Snake for this before the end of the school day.

"It's not over yet, Snake..."

Chapter Text

"You really know how to keep a guy waiting, you know that, right?"

Hal Emmerich, better known to Outer Heaven High as simply "Otacon," finally makes eye contact with Snake, the closest thing he's ever had to a brother and partly the reason he even made it through middle school, and rolls his eyes in a dramatic fashion so he knows Snake can see him, all while he cleans his glasses with his flannel. 

"Snake, if I'm remembering this correctly, only one of us has to deal with a little sister every day." Otacon holds his glasses up closer to his eyes to inspect for any possible smudges he may have missed.

Snake buries his hands in his pockets, partly to make sure he didn't forget his pack of Lucky Striker cigarettes—he can't survive the school day without them—and decides he is going to drag this situation through the mud for as long as he can.

"Well, you never know. Big Boss is definitely the kind of guy to just casually namedrop a long-lost sister out of nowhere at the dinner table like it's no big deal or anything."

Otacon, with his glasses now fully clean and his vision unhampered for the time being, decides that he will play along. "You say that like he's done this sort of thing before."

"Look, all I'm saying is that when Liquid showed up, things just haven't been the same since." Snake folds his arms and stares at the sidewalk, acting as though that he has been going through some exorbitantly hard times as of late.

Otacon allows just the tiniest amount of air to escape from his nose at the suggestion that Liquid, Snake's actual brother who, he has known since birth, is somebody who in actuality only started appearing around a month ago. "You're an idiot."

"Hey, you're still the one who can barely handle living with a single sibling. I got to deal with two dudes who look exactly like me, and they've got egos that are so big and out of control, I don't know how they both haven't got tumors growing in their heads yet."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I've been practicing forging their signatures; I'm basically in their wills already."

Otacon feels like he should chastise Snake for betting on the premature demise of both of his brothers, but then he remembers how Liquid has always been an absolute menace for as long as he's known him, and Solidus is basically a black hole where all the vibes and good times have no chance due to how much of a total bore he is to be around. Otacon feels that Snake is partly justifiable for feeling this way.

After a bit of the two walking to school that entails Snake and Otacon just shooting the shit as per usual, not talking about college or future stuff or anything important like that, just stuff like who at their school Snake would have the hardest time taking on in a fight with his hands tied behind his back or whether or not Snake can fit the entirety of his fist in his own mouth, Snake finally notices how Otacon has been looking over color-coded flashcards and decides to just bite the bullet already.

"What's all that for? You trying to memorize some good pickup lines for once?"

Otacon doesn't look at Snake when he answers, his attention is now fully on his precious flashcards. "No, they're some of the notes I'm trying to memorize for the test today."

The words stop Snake dead in his tracks and nearly cause him to trip over his own feet, which already had a high likelihood of occurring due to the fact that he hadn't even bothered to tie his shoes this morning.

"Test?" Snake says the word like he's just finding out that he is about to be executed via firing squad. That would probably be preferable to him right now at this moment. 

Otacon finally breaks away from his last-minute study session and looks Snake right in the eyes like he is the biggest doofus he's ever had the misfortune of coming into contact with. 

"The test, Snake. The test for Mr. Miller's class."

Snake audibly groans and immediately pinches the bridge of his nose after realizing just how screwed he is right now.

"Of course it's for Mr. Miller; that dude needs to get a life."

"Snake, he's a teacher; this basically is his life."

"That's an astronomically shit life, Otacon, I would kill myself if that were my life."

"I'm not disagreeing with you; I'm just saying, none of that changes the fact that we have a test today and it's for Mr. Miller."

Otacon makes sure to start walking just a tad closer to Snake so he can ever so slightly bump into his shoulder when he says the quiet part out loud.

"A test that someone here didn't study for, evidently."

Snake looks away and tries to come up with an excuse, any excuse he can use right now that won't make him look like a complete boneheaded slacker right now, which he totally is, and he lands on the first thing that doesn't sound completely moronic.

"...I can't sleep! I don't sleep, you know that, Otacon, you know that. I'm always talking about it, my brain just won't let me do it! It's like my whole body is out to get me or something!! I don't know whose side this thing is on half the time!"

"Have you been having those dreams again? The ones we would talk about?" Otacon turns to Snake and is basically looking into his soul right now, were Snake to even have one, of course.

Snake was already immediately regretting this, as he had been having those dreams again, and now he was going to have to talk about it while running solely on two old Pop-Tarts and cigarettes.

"Yes, I've been having... the dreams, again." This is the last thing Snake wants to be discussing right now; Solidus's hair care routine would be emotionally riveting and stimulating.

"Wanna talk about it?" There is a genuine sense of sincerity in Otacon's words, which Snake both appreciates and can't help but feel just a tad put off by, as again, his recurring "nightmares" aren't exactly the thing he would like to be discussing right now.

"There's nothing really to talk about; I'm still in Alaska, I'm still a... super soldier, or something, and Liquid is still a dick, at least my brain knows to keep that part accurate to the source."

"Did you remember to look at the back of the CD case to get Meryl's codec frequency?" Otacon asks innocently, having clearly made great efforts to memorize all the details about Snake's dreams for him whenever he feels like talking about them.

"Yeah, I got past that part, but there was this other weird part where I'm fighting Psycho Mantis, and—wait... that's it!!"

Otacon looks at Snake with a perturbed look on his face; he knows from experience that whenever a lightbulb goes off in Snake's head, it isn't going to end well, and due to the fact that Otacon is with Snake most of the time for said ideas, he usually gets caught in the crossfire. It is a tried and tested method.

"I sit next to Mantis in that class, right?" Snake genuinely does not remember whether or not he sits next to Psycho Mantis in Mr. Miller's class, despite the fact that the seating arrangement has been what it is for months now. 

"Yeah? What about it?" Otacon already knows that if Snake is planning on roping in Psycho Mantis of all people into whatever scheme he's thinking of right now, then it is already going to be a disaster for everybody involved.

"So, while we're taking the test, I'll just keep pestering Mantis to tell me the answers, with my thoughts and junk, and eventually it'll wear him down and he'll have no choice!"

This is what gets Otacon to finally cease from walking, as now he has to look at Snake and direct all of his attention on him completely as he processes all the malarky that just came out of his mouth that Snake himself is certain is a good idea.

"Snake."

"Yeah??"

"Mantis hates you, you know that, right?"

Chapter Text

Snake scoffs at the suggestion that Psycho Mantis, the resident class "weirdo" who always showed up to school wearing his signature gas mask, with his fiery and wild red hair being the only thing ever visible, these big oversized sweaters with the sleeves always covering most of his hands, and literal combat boots, would ever have any reason whatsoever to "hate" him in particular, the way Otacon claims he does.

"Psycho Mantis?"

"Yes, Snake, that Psycho Mantis. He's not exactly your biggest fan." Otacon is trying his best to make it so Snake can still be reasoned with to not make an absolute fool of himself later today while dragging an unknowledgeable classmate, especially somebody like Psycho Mantis of all people, into his mess, but Snake isn't feeling very agreeable today. 

"Cmon Otacon, Mantis doesn't hate me. I barely know the guy. What reason could he possibly have to hate me off all people?"

Snake drapes an arm over Otacon's shoulder to pull him in closer while he puts on a voice that sounds something like a used car salesman trying to reason with him on what is clearly a bad idea for all parties who will be involved.

Still walking in conjunction with Snake, only now Snake has his arm around him so that makes trying to divulge the seriousness of the situation and all the red flags that are popping up with Snake's plan all the more tedious and difficult. Otacon knows that it is up to him, and only him, at this point, to get it through Snake's thick skull that him trying to exploit the fact that Psycho Mantis has psychic powers to help him cheat on a test is a really bad idea.

"Snake, Mantis tries to avoid being around you every chance he can get. He literally tried forging a note once to make it look like his dad wrote it so he could give it to Mr. Miller and have his seat moved." 

“He wanted his seat moved?”

”No, he wanted you to be moved; he likes sitting by the window.”

All Snake can do at this point is shake his head and scoff; he's half-convinced that this is some sort of attempt on Otacon's part to mess with him. The idea that Psycho Mantis of all people would try and do something so juvenile and petty just so he wouldn't have to sit next to him for one class is such an out-of-left field suggestion for Snake that he thinks it must be some sort of joke.

"Otacon, I'm pretty sure he's just a goth, or whatever; that's his whole deal. He doesn't actually hate me or anything like that."

"Snake I'm pretty sure he hates you."

"I could count on one hand the number of meaningful interactions I've had with this guy." Snake lifts up a closed fist and makes sure that Otacon can see it clearly. "You see that? I think I asked him if I could borrow a pencil once back in the eighth grade, and he just used his powers to float one over to me, or something. He could've stabbed my eye out with that! But he didn't! That's gotta count for something, right??"

Otacon might have to punch Snake at this point; he just might. He knows this whole thing is one big disaster in the making.

"Please don't do this, Snake, please."

"What, you're resorting to begging now?"

"Snake, listen to me; the route where you just accept your fate and flunk this test is literally the best possible outcome right now. Just let it happen."

Snake doesn't answer. There's not much he feels he can say at this point. Right now he's having an unpleasant flashback to when they were all in nursery school and he had painted over the lenses of Mantis's mask during naptime and let him walk into a table corner. He's really hoping that Mantis doesn't remember this, but knowing him and his whole vibe in general, he definitely does. Snake never admitted to this to anyone. He got away with it, and Mantis knows this. Mantis doesn't forget.

"...So when the answer to a question is B, can you just cough or something so I know to mark it down?"

Otacon actually does punch Snake in the shoulder this time. It doesn't hurt, obviously; Otacon doesn't even remember to eat breakfast most of the time, but the message is clear here. Snake is on his own for this one.

The rest of the long walk to school was quiet for the most part. Snake knows that Otacon isn't feeling all that inclined to help him right now, and Otacon knows that Snake is dead set on going through with this "master" plan that will for sure end in a disaster. It's not like Otacon is going to narc or anything like that; he's still ride-or-die with Snake at the end of day; he just doesn't want to be anywhere near the proximity of this shit show when things go south, which they most certainly will.

When they can both finally see that place, Outer Heaven High, the reality of their current predicament starts to finally set in. Before either of them can get a proper word in or dispel any last-minute nuggets of wisdom, they are both immediately caught off guard by the unmistakable sound of rollerblades making swift and continuous contact with the pavement right behind them, and it's only getting closer. The two of them are only just barely able to jump out of the way before a rotund and spherical figure in a ginormous fern-green hoodie whizzes past them with his inline skates, obviously showing no signs of caring that he was just about to crash into two people that would definitely not be in the same weight class as him in UFC.

"Laugh and grow fat!!" He proclaims, not really even directed at either Snake or Otacon, as he tosses a crushed and empty can of Dr Pepper behind him, still on his way to school without a care in the world evidently.

Snake winces a little as he gets back on his feet; he landed on his hand in an awkward manner and isn't thrilled about how now he's going to have to deal with this for the rest of the day. 

"God, I really hate that guy." Snake is now glaring at the green shape that is actively rollerblading to their school without any real care in the world.

"Pretty sure that's the popular opinion among the student body." Otacon is making sure his glasses didn't get broken again while he too tries to get readjusted and walk off from what just happened.

"That whole 'laugh and grow fat' crap he's always saying, what does that even mean?" 

"I think it's like... it has something to do with being able to enjoy your current predicament, or something. Like your mind has the ability to make any situation a reality, or something like that; I really don't know." Otacon is really only half paying attention at this point; he's more worried about all his flashcards that went flying into the grass; he's trying to make sure that they're all adequately accounted for.

"Is that like the cake thing?"

"The what thing?"

"The cake... French thing. Is it like that?"

"Snake, I've got like, half a glass of water in my system right now, I don't know. I really don't."

Snake turns away and lets Otacon continue with getting himself reorientated and stable again.

Now all Snake himself can think about is how good a nice, fat piece of cake would taste right now. How it would almost make it so all his troubles and worries would just melt away, just like that. He knows that his birthday, which is also his brother's birthday too, but that isn't really important right now, is still a decent ways away, but everyone has a birthday; everyone deserves to celebrate the cyclical nature of birth and life and all that garbage.

"...Otacon, when's your birthday?"

Otacon punches Snake in the arm, again, almost as if he was able to read his friend's mind and knew just how easy it was for Snake to get derailed completely by something so stupid and childlike.

"It's June, right? It's one of the J ones... right?"

Snake is still convinced, somehow, that Psycho Mantis of all people is all of a sudden going to be a good sport about helping Snake out on a test that he didn't study for. Snake doesn't even know whether or not Mantis himself is even any good in that class either. For all he knows, Mantis is also stressing hard about this test, and the last thing he needs is somebody like Snake barging into his mind palace just to ask what he got for Number 4. Nonetheless, Snake is convinced that everything will be alright in the end, for today at least. He really doesn't have anything that resembles dreams or aspirations right now; he just wants to sit back and relax for the next... decade. Something about that "plan" of his doesn't sit right with Big Boss.

Otacon is the first to notice Mantis himself sitting by a tree in front of the school. He's just reading quietly to himself, with Fortune, a girl in the same grade as them who is on a similar wavelength of being "strange" compared to that of Mantis, sitting next to him, also reading to herself. Neither of them really looks like they're acknowledging that the other is there, but it is clear to anybody watching that both of them, respectively, are comfortable with the other being within their personal bubbles. After seeing all this, Otacon tries his best to think of something to say that'll distract Snake long enough for them to just walk right past them so he won't unintentionally do or say something to disrupt this peaceful and serene moment with that boneheaded nature of his, but it is already too late, as of course Snake notices, and of course he feels the need to say something.

"Just look at him, Otacon; that's not a dude who has hate in his heart. He's just sitting there, chilling. Being a dude's dude." Snake makes sure to playfully elbow Otacon in the ribs as he says this, partially as a way to get "revenge" on him for having punched him in the arm earlier. Otacon is at least grateful that Snake didn't do anything really stupid like actually walking up to Mantis to ask him point-blank to help him out on that test later, but he already knows that Snake is the exact type of dude to use such a banal observation like this to justify what he's going to do.

"He's sitting with Fortune, Snake. Who also hates you." Otacon is aware that he's running out of time to do what he can to prevent Snake from doing something astronomically stupid, and at this point, he's almost ready to cut his losses and let Snake deal with the consequences of his constant scheming to do as little work as possible, because Snake isn't backing down.

"Hey! I at least apologized for that one! Look, we both know that a saxophone has a very similar... shape to that of, uh... a plunger. How was I supposed to know that she had a jazz recital that exact same day??"

Otacon has to physically remove his glasses so he can rub his eyes for this part; he's not sure how much more of Snake's mental gymnastics he can sanction at this point.

"Snake, she literally invited you to it personally."

"No, she meant to invite Solidus. My hair was shorter then, and she got the two of us mixed up."

"That still doesn't justify or explain why you thought using her sax as a literal plunger was a good idea."

"It was a high-intensity situation, alright? I was wearing a tie that day and had to borrow one from Solidus."

"You've literally been wearing the same bandana since the fifth grade, Snake."

Snake puts his head down in a solemn manner and just sighs to himself. Otacon doesn't get it; Snake doesn't think anybody will ever truly understand why it is he wears this bandana. It gives him infinite ammo, sure, but there's so much more to it than that. There are layers to it. His bandana has lore; even the reason he never washes it has lore. Otacon has actually secretly washed it a few times on Snake's behalf, but Snake himself has never been able to tell the difference. Snake instinctively reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette to help him make it through the day, only to realize one unfortunate fact of his current predicament.

"Otacon, do you have a pencil I could use?"

Otacon knew that Snake was going to be a handful when he had agreed to let him become his official best friend, but he might have an aneurysm at this point.

"Snake I swear to God you are the reason Mr. Miller needs SSRIs."

"Are you sure it isn't because Raiden keyed his car last month because he thought he was disrespecting Solidus or whatever?"

"...Okay, that too."

It's true. Raiden, someone who is two grades below both Snake and Otacon, is an absolute menace on a daily basis. He probably has undiagnosed ADHD. Snake can quite literally feel his will to live slowly but surely dissipate whenever he's within earshot of Raiden following Solidus around school like a poodle.

"Snake, are you really this committed to being an absolute stereotype of a man that you can't even be bothered to take shit out of your locker when you don't need it?"

The fact is that Snake does have an incredibly messy and unkempt locker. It's full of old gym clothes, crumpled chip bags, some spare packs of cigarettes that are probably stale by now, overdue homework assignments that probably date back to middle school, various magazines that he doesn't want Big Boss finding, a bunch of stuff he borrowed from Otacon like CDs/video games/socks/manga, and something in the very back that smells like it crawled in his locker to die.

"What stereotype are you even accusing me of right now?" Snake asks as he sniffs a piece of chewed gum he found in his locker to check whether or not it's still any good.

"...I don't know. The guy who... who doesn't even make sure that the shirt he wears to school has actually been washed properly." Otacon points to some sort of mystery stain located on the back of Snake's shirt that he had failed to notice back when he first picked out his wardrobe for today. Snake makes to stick his arms inside his shirt so he can switch it around and get a proper look at whatever it is Otacon had been pointing at.

"Ew..."

"Snake, what even is that?"

"I don't know; I must've sat... on something. Almost looks like marmalade. Does this smell like marmalade to you?" Snake walks closer to Otacon so he can get a better whiff of whatever it is that is on his shirt, causing Otacon himself to take a few steps back in an overly dramatic and disgusted manner.

"Snake, I'm not smelling you. I'm really not in the mood for this right now." Otacon feels the need to pinch his nose to nonverbally communicate to Snake that he is a gross individual who does gross stuff all of the time. Every day. 

With it being clear to Snake that Otacon has no real intention of smelling any of his clothes right now, Snake just shrugs and gives the stain on his shirt a little taste, just a little of that iconic Snake tasting strange things that he's known for by now. Otacon wants to throw up.

"...This is not marmalade. I'm not actually sure if I've ever even had marmalade before."

"Snake, people are staring."

"That's just Decoy Octopus; he's always just staring at people. Dude is a total freak, believe me."

"Snake..."

"Yeah?"

"You are literally wearing your shirt backwards right now so you can get a free sample of some... some mystery stain!"

"...Huh. You do make some good points there."

Otacon is now actively fighting the urge to use the door on Snake's locker to smash his head with so he doesn't have to engage with this whole debacle anymore at this point.

"Snake, how do you expect someone like Psycho Mantis of all people to inexplicably lend you a helping hand in your time of need when you show up to class looking like... this??" Otacon gestures wildly and frantically to the entirety of Snake's disheveled and unwashed wardrobe, not just his dirty Pixies shirt but just about everything Snake ever wears like, ever, somehow always ends up looking grimy in one way or another. Snake hadn't thought about that; this was a serious miscalculation on his end of things.

"Otacon... give me your flannel."

"Snake. No."

"Hand over the flannel, Otacon; it's a matter of life and death... not actually, but it might as well be."

Snake takes a step closer, painfully aware of how little time he has left before they have to head to their homeroom, until he notices something out of the corner of his eye... something in the locker. It's an old, crusty-looking green flannel, probably one he had borrowed from Otacon himself and just forgot to return. Figuring that Otacon has enough to worry about right now, Snake decides to pull out the plaid-textured deus ex machina from his locker in an attempt to look more traditionally put together when he has to ultimately ask Psycho Mantis for help later.

"Otacon, do you think Mantis can like... sense stains? With his mind powers and all that? Is that in his wheelhouse?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough..."

"Bitchin'."