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Major Ocelot sat alone.
The hotel-like suite that had been set up for him did little more than give him a bed to rest in at night. Rich wooden panels sealed the walls around him, and the cosy golden glow of the bedside lamp should be enticing enough. Zero himself had ordered his own staff around, commanding them to create suitable sleeping quarters for one of his best agents.
Ocelot had only been at the lavish mountainside lodge for a few days. Of course, Zero, in all his ego and narcissism, couldn't quite help himself to make a winter resort their base of operations. Tucked into the side of Cerro Catedral, the Patriots had made a small home for themselves over the past few days.
So far, Ocelot had spent most of his time in his room or stealthily prowling around the lodge at night. It’s not that he didn’t like his colleagues, but the only one he actually gave a damn about had been giving him the cold shoulder since they arrived.
John.
Oh John.
It was the first time they had been together in months. It would be an understatement to say that Ocelot had missed him. Their last encounter was ironically in Las Vegas, tangled in lush five-star sheets and each other. He had barely seen the other man, John had managed to skirt away from him every time that Ocelot had made an attempt to talk. Even his lingering, longing stares weren't returned.
So now he sat sadly, alone.
Was it something he did? He had wracked his brain, trying to remember if anything had changed. Perhaps it was the change of scenery or being with other people. Ocelot supposed it made sense that John didn't want to be open with him in front of someone like Eva.
Though that hadn't stopped them from being glued at the hip at all their past Patriot meetings.
Fuck this, Ocelot thought bitterly. He shrugged on his fur coat, throwing all hell to the wind and deciding he wasn't going to wallow in self-pity. Maybe Zero could use some attention, that was sure to make John unbearably jealous…
He marched down the hall, a few underlings were meandering, leaning against the walls and chattering among themselves. Ocelot paid no mind; his hand instinctively slipped under his coat to fiddle with the cylinder of his revolver. A means to ground himself.
As he walked, he passed an open door to his left.
John's room.
Ocelot knew he should keep moving, stay out of his way. But the more curious, inquisitive part of him won. He stepped his cowboy boot foot over the threshold.
John was seemingly absent, which was probably for the best. The room was smaller than Ocelots. John's belongings were still neatly folded in his duffel bag, sitting on the end of the bed. A single glance showed that it was nothing more than his regular clothes and some old notebooks.
Everything else in the room was the same, save for a small scrap of paper on the dresser.
After looking around himself to reassure he was truly alone, Ocelot closed the distance between himself and the dresser. His eyes grazed over the scrap, which turned out to be a newspaper clipping of the calendar month of June.
Strange.
It wasn't that unusual for John to keep a calendar of their current month. But why did it look like it was ripped from a newspaper hastily, and why was only one day circled?
June Sixth.
That was today. The only reason Ocelot knew that was because of his significance to himself. His birthday. Not that he ever celebrated it, the only relevance it held in his life was a tool to track his age.
“What are you doing here?”
Ocelot almost jumped out of his skin.
He spun around, resisting the urge to pull out his revolver at the voice, thankfully so, as it turned out to be the last person he wanted to shoot.
John.
“I, uh.”
John didn't say anything, just kept his lone eye on him, eyebrows furrowing in perplexity.
“Well, what are you doing here? I thought you were going on a recon mission with Para-Medic?”
All John did was simply shrug, taking a step closer to Ocelot.
“Change of plans. I had something more important to handle.”
Whatever that meant.
“Adam?”
Oh yeah, he had forgotten that all John had to say to make Ocelot infatuated was his name. He looked up at him, finally reaching his eyeline, perhaps for the first time since they arrived.
“Will you, err…?”
John trailed off, glancing around the room nervously.
“Will you come somewhere with me for a minute?”
“Why?”
“Just, please?”
Ocelot nodded, motioning his hands forward to indicate to John to lead the way.
As the pair of them wandered down the halls of the lodge, Ocelot couldn't help but let his mind run a muck. Where were they going? And why? What did John need to show or tell him that they had to be in a particular location?
After a few minutes, John's arm reached out to stop him before they could walk any further. His bare hand squeezed over Ocelot's arm slightly, and for a moment, he felt like he was melting into the touch.
“Close your eyes.”
John softly commanded. The shocked alarm must have shown on Ocelot's face at the request because he was sent that pleading look from the other man.
“Just trust me, okay?”
And Adam did, because of course, because he trusted John with everything and everyone; it was surely going to get him killed one day.
The darkness embraced him as he let his eyes flutter close. He heard the creaking of an old wooden door being pushed open, before feeling strong arms latch onto his shoulders. Guiding them forward together.
It smelled sweet here, strange.
“Okay, you ready?”
John said as he brought them to a halt, Ocelot was not sure what he should be ready for, but of course, since it was John who was asking, he nodded yes.
“Open your eyes now.”
The dim glow of candles filled his vision, not candles lining the dark walls of a powerless room. But a cluster of small candles together, sitting atop a small cake.
Oh.
Oh.
“Happy birthday, Adam.”
Ocelot was stunned. This was certainly the first time in his life that someone had ever given him a birthday cake. Had that been what John was doing this entire time? Planning out some silly, yet so so sweet surprise for him?
Today's date marked on that calendar clicked in his brain.
“You know my birthday?”
“Of course I do.”
Ocelot felt his cheeks burn at that; he all but threw himself at John. interlocking his arms behind his neck and crashing their lips together. John chucked into his mouth, smooth and comforting. Of course, just when Ocelot thinks the other man is pulling away, he does something like this.
“Okay, okay!”
John laughed out between kisses, pulling Ocelot's face back with his hands.
“Cake first, then we can celebrate.”
Best. Birthday. Ever.