Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Snake first floated the idea of booking a cabin, Hal almost laughed in his face.

A cabin? Seriously? After all of the shady, decrepit, run-down shacks they’d been forced to hide in over the years?

Once they took to the skies, Hal quietly assumed that their cabin days were long behind them. He never imagined that they’d ever voluntarily find themselves in one again.

But, to be fair, it isn't like Snake's brought it up out of the blue. 

They've run into a problem that they haven't faced in their seven years of working together: there are no missions to prepare for.

Mei-Ling and Nastasha are still looking, of course, and Hal's web crawlers are still dutifully combing the internet for illicit intel, but for whatever reason, obtaining even a single authentic tip is proving to be a long, arduous process.

With no missions looming, they've unexpectedly found themselves with a rare gap in their otherwise busy schedule; it's the perfect opportunity for them to catch up on some much-deserved RNR. And, to really make the most of it, they scheduled a round of routine maintenance for the Nomad, which means they'll be grounded for at least a week.

That's when Snake pointed out that they could spend their “break” in a cabin, in nature. It would, Snake argued, be an opportune chance to properly introduce Sunny to “the great outdoors.” 

“It’ll be good for her,” Snake had said. And Hal, ever worried about Sunny’s development, reluctantly agreed for her sake. He’s well aware of the benefits that come with fresh air and some proper vitamin D; it would be good for Sunny (and, if he's being honest, good for himself as well).

Besides, a cabin is much more appealing than tent-camping, which had been Snake’s alternate idea. Hal had put his foot down then; he hasn’t been working his ass off for his entire adult life just to sleep on the ground and not shower for a week.

So, a cabin it is.

And now, after a four-hour drive to and through the Sierra Nevadas, they’ve finally made it.

When Hal opens the front door for the very first time, he’s already braced for the worst. Instead, he ends up being pleasantly surprised. The place is clean, free of dust and cobwebs and mold, and is brightened by the abundant sunlight filtering through the massive windows on nearly every wall.

He steps inside first, Sunny right on his heels, while Snake wrangles their heavier stuff from the car.

Hal drops their bags on the floor by the door and stretches out his neck, his lower back, stiff and sore from the lengthy drive. Sunny disappears down the hallway as he does so, silently taking in their new temporary home.

Snake wanders in a moment later, sets down an armload of stuff, then, predictably, walks right back through the front door to light a cigarette.

Hal bites his tongue as he watches Snake disappear, and instead follows Sunny. Together, they check out all of the amenities.

The cabin is nicer than he expected. Mei-Ling booked it, and they’d been sure to specifically mention bringing Sunny along, which must explain why everything actually works. Hal tests the bathroom sink- there’s hot water. He tries the stove- the gas works. He flicks on a couple of light switches- there’s electricity. The couch is free of mildew, there aren’t any roach carcasses to sweep up, and there isn’t a fine layer of dust covering every flat surface.

Hal feels like a ton of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, this week won’t be so bad after all.

After finishing his look around, he wanders back to the kitchen where Sunny’s already bounded ahead. When he finds her, she’s standing in the middle of the room, waiting for him with an uneasy look on her face. 

“What’s wrong?” Hal asks, looking around in case he missed something troubling.

She twists the hem of her shirt with her fingers. “W-where’s Snake?” 

Oh. That’s all? His shoulders drop in relief. Sunny still gets anxious whenever one of them leaves without warning, which is something he can’t really fault her for. If anything, it’s a sign that she’s beginning to grow fond of them.

“Oh, Uncle Snake? He’s smoking.” Hal’s nose scrunches in disapproval as he gestures towards the closed front door. 

Sunny makes a face that mirrors his, then, suddenly possessed by resolve, marches over and pulls it open.

As expected, Snake is right there, leaning against the porch rail, smoking languidly with a hand in his pocket. When he hears the door swing open, he turns around slowly and blinks at the two of them like a placated cat.

“Yes?” Snake drawls.

Sunny plants one hand on her hip and uses the other to point an accusatory finger at him.

“You- you’ve been smoking a lot!” She declares.

Hal has to turn away to stop himself from laughing at her blunt delivery. It’s uncanny how much she sounds like Snake sometimes.

Snake just stares at her, blows some smoke out the side of his mouth, and says: “Good observation.”

And it's true. Snake always smokes more whenever they’re on the ground, and this trip’s been no exception. Hal figures it’s Snake's way of making up for lost time. 

(The Nomad is a no-smoking plane, not that the abundant signage or Hal’s nagging work as actual deterrents. Hal’s caught Snake exhaling smoke into the kitchen stove vents on more than one occasion).

“Why?” Sunny asks.

“Why what?” Snake says, though Hal knows that he knows exactly what she’s getting at.

“S-smoke. Why do you smoke?” 

Snake takes a long, lingering drag as he thinks of an answer. When he finally exhales, (at least he has the decency to turn away from the door), he says, infuriatingly matter-of-factly: “Because I like it.”

Sunny considers his claim, then frowns when his answer doesn’t compute. “But… but Uncle Hal says it’s bad for you.”

His partner’s attention shifts to him as a glare. “Did you put her up to this?”

Hal lifts his palms in mock surrender and shakes his head. “I didn’t. Swear.” 

And honestly, it’s the truth. He’s long since given up on convincing Snake to quit. His partner can be damn stubborn when he wants to be. What’s that saying? You can lead a Snake to water…

Sunny puts her hands behind her back, starts rocking back and forth, heels to toes. “S-so… even though you know it’s bad, you- you still do it?” Sunny asks, even more confused now.

Snake gives a low, thoughtful exhale. Even Hal has to admire her line of questioning. 

“Yeah,” Snake says, finally. “I do.”

“Why?” Sunny asks again innocently.

Hal watches as the two of them stare each other down.

“Good question, Sunny,” Hal jumps in, if only because he enjoys having the rare opportunity to make Snake squirm. It’s always been easy for Snake to defend his habit in front of Hal, but evidently, it’s a different story when it comes to Sunny. “I’d like to know the answer, too,” Hal says.

Snake glowers at him, though there’s no real venom behind it. He looks tired more than anything.

Hal gets it. In addition to the smoke, Snake probably just wanted fifteen minutes of alone time after nearly three hours spent in the car.

“It makes me feel better,” Snake mutters.

“Can’t other things m-m-make you feel better?” Sunny asks. “You can do those things in- instead.”

Snake shrugs, looks away. “Doesn’t feel the same. And quitting isn’t easy.” He rubs his brow in a moment of rare transparency. “I’ve tried, once or twice. It never stuck,” he grumbles.

“You should try again!” Sunny insists, as if it’s as simple as that.

Hal clears his throat. “I bet you could do it if you really tried, Snake,” he says softly, secretly hoping that Snake will rise to the challenge.

Snake’s eyes shoot daggers at him again before shifting into something more contemplative. For a second, Hal thinks Snake might give them a real earnest response, until Snake smirks. Then, he puts on a sly expression that Hal’s come to associate with one Iroquois Pliskin.

Uh-oh.

Snake turns to Sunny. “I have an idea.”

Sunny tilts her head. “Idea?”

“I’ll try,” Snake says slowly. “But why don’t we make things interesting? Let’s add some stakes.” He takes one final drag and then snuffs his cigarette against the railing.

“How about a bet?” Snake proposes.

Sunny’s eyes are wide when she asks: “What- what's a bet?”

Snake crosses his arms. “A bet is like a game where you predict what's going to happen in the future. If you end up being correct, you win. If you’re wrong, you lose,” he explains.

Sunny’s face lights up. “A g-game?”

“That’s right,” Snake says. “So, if I can manage to go an entire week without smoking, I win. If I fail, you win. Winner gets any prize of their choosing.”

Sunny lights up, obviously intrigued by the concept of a prize. “Deal!”

Hal resists the urge to snort. He gets it now. Snake’s been bored due to a lack of missions and all of the prep-work that comes with them; he’s restless and itching for any sort of challenge to liven his days.

In Hal’s opinion, that’s a perfectly fine motivator. If a self-imposed bet with Sunny is enough to get him to abstain from cigs for a week, Hal can get behind that.

“Doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea,” Hal chimes in. Then, before he can help himself: “Assuming Sunny doesn’t ask for anything crazy when she wins.”

“When she wins?” Snake asks, feigning hurt. “You think I’ll lose?”

Hal shrugs.

Snake rubs his hands together as if he’s already won and turns back to Sunny.

“Never mind you. When I win, we’ll all go camping next time we land.” He looks pointedly at Hal. “No electronics allowed.”

Hal groans. “Why am I getting dragged into this?” 

Snake waves him off and crouches down to Sunny’s level.

“Your turn Sunshine,” Snake says to her. “If you win, what do you want? What’s your prize?”

Sunny presses a finger to the pocket of her dimple and hums in thought.

“I can ask for- for anything?” she asks meekly.

“Well…” Hal starts.

“-Anything,” Snake nods, effectively cutting him off.

Sunny purses her lips for a moment, and then her face lights up.

“A pet!” she beams. “Something s-soft! Something cute like a-”

“-woah, Sunny,” Hal starts, suddenly nervous. “I’m not sure that’s a good ide-”

“Deal,” Snake says. He sticks his hand out. Sunny shakes it. 

As they seal their little deal, Snake throws Hal a look over her little head. Relax, it says. It’s just a week. I got this.

But Hal knows better. They’ve gone down this road before.

He remembers all of his failed attempts to convince Snake to quit. In the past, all of his appeals to Snake’s sense of self-preservation never got them anywhere. 

He remembers all the times they'd gotten charged extra fees for smoking in motel rooms, remembers the nights Snake would sneak out to the nearest liquor store to buy a fresh pack, insisting that he’d make it last a week, and how it never did. He remembers how they used to fight about the smell and how it clung to anything and everything, how it used to make Hal feel sick until his body eventually just got used to it. 

He knows that Snake remembers, too. 

Still, what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t at least try to show a bit of faith? Hal walks over to Snake and gives him a wary smile before pecking him on the cheek, ignoring the inevitable “ew!” that Sunny squeals right after.

“I believe in you,” Hal says quietly.

Snake smiles, stands up straight, and pulls out his trusty pack of Lucky Strikes from their home in his pocket. He holds it out to Hal for safekeeping.

“Don’t smoke any,” Snake teases.

Hal rolls his eyes and takes them.

And just like that, the bet is on.

Chapter Text

“Are you actually planning on doing it?” 

“You don’t believe in me?”

Snake grumbles and shifts slightly, which makes their entire bedframe creak.

Hal hesitates. Though Snake hadn’t smoked at all for the rest of the day, Hal recognizes his partner’s tics well enough to have noticed the way that his fingers were practically twitching for a cigarette all evening. 

“I didn’t say that,” Hal says quickly. “It’s just- I’ve seen you try.”

“Have I ever told you how encouraging you are?” Snake says dryly, scooting closer and slinging an arm over Hal's waist.

“Look,” Hal says, momentarily distracted when he begins to feel Snake's breath warm against his nape. “It isn’t that serious. If you cheat, I won’t tell her. There’s no way we're letting an animal on the plane.”  

“We already have a Snake on the plane.”

“Ugh".

“You walked right into that one,” Snake says. Then, after a moment, he adds, “I can do it. It’s just for a week, not the rest of my life.”

Hal really wants to believe him. But still.

“Yeah, well,” Hal mumbles, letting exhaustion seep into his voice. “We could drive into town tomorrow. Get you some nicotine gum. Or a patch. Or a stress ball.”

“The drive’s too long,” Snake says. “You can be my stress ball.”

Before Hal can argue, Snake punctuates the statement by quickly squeezing his ass. Hal yelps, and Snake snickers against his shoulder.

-

“Are- are you okay, Uncle Snake?”

Snake cracks an eye open. From his spot across the room, Hal smirks at the way Snake’s currently splayed out on the log-frame couch; he looks like a damsel in distress, arm draped over his face in anguish, while the other hangs limp off the edge.

“Huh. Uh-huh,” he grumbles to Sunny, who’s standing over him, concerned. “Just a headache.”

“Oh,” Sunny says. “Are y-you sick?”

“No.”

“Are you s-still s-sleepy?”

“No.”

“Then… what’s- what’s wrong?”

Snake slides his arm off his face to look at her properly. “Nothing.”

Sunny looks unconvinced. “Y-you look tired.”

Snake’s mouth twitches. Hal watches as he wrestles with his pride before finally admitting what must be the truth.

“Nicotine withdrawal.”

“Oh,” Sunny breathes. “What’s n-n-n-n-nicotine?”

Snake smirks. “It’s the stuff in cigarettes that makes you feel good.”

Hal rolls his eyes. “It’s the stuff in cigarettes that makes you addicted.”

Sunny doesn’t seem to notice Hal’s interjection, as all of her attention is focused on Snake. Snake, on the otherhand, ignores his comment completely.

“What’s w-withdrawal?” she asks.

Snake rubs at the bridge of his nose. “It happens when you stop doing something you’ve gotten used to. In my case, when I stop smoking, I feel like absolute sh-” his eyes flick to Hal. “-crap.”

Sunny fidgets. “But… you said you could quit whenever you w-want?”

He sighs. There’s no escaping their little bet, and he knows it. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters.

Hal watches as Sunny purses her lips, deep in thought.

Then, without a word, she disappears to the kitchen. When she returns, she’s carrying a tall glass of water, dangerously filled to the brim. She gingerly makes her way back to the couch, careful not to let the water spill over the lip as she holds it with both hands like it’s a live grenade.

“F-for you,” she says, quietly offering it out to Snake.

Snake props himself up on one elbow, takes the glass, and downs it in one go. “Thanks, kid.”

Sunny gives him a smile, then bounds back outside to continue her morning mission of marvelling at all of the bugs she can find crawling through autumn foliage.

Once she’s gone, Hal crosses the room and looks down at Snake.

“You’re being dramatic,” Hal pokes.

He’s seen Snake in various states of injury over the years; fractured ribs, gunshot wounds, concussions, and pneumonia, to name a few. Through any and every ailment, Snake had always managed to maintain some level of cool, guarded nonchalance.

Hal knows damn well that, to Snake, a withdrawal headache barely even registers.

“Move over,” Hal urges.

Snake obliges, lifting his head just enough so that Hal can sit on the couch. Snake’s head settles in his lap, tension leaving his shoulders as he lets his eyes drift close.

“If you’re trying to guilt her into changing her mind, good luck. She’s as stubborn as both of us.”

“I’m not. This headache’s killing me,” Snake insists, though he grins as he says it.

“I’ll make coffee,” Hal says. “Maybe the caffeine will help.”

Snake breathes out slowly, turning his cheek into Hal’s thigh. “Make it strong.”

-

Around lunchtime, once the two of them are properly caffeinated and Snake claims that his headache has subsided, the three of them set out for a short hike through the woods.

Hal’s been dreading it all morning, mainly because he had his doubts when Snake promised an “easy” hike the night prior.

But, to Hal’s surprise, the trek actually turns out to be quite enjoyable.

It’s everything Hal secretly hoped for: a well-maintained dirt trail, shaded with a gentle incline, and no poison oak in sight. Since it’s the off-season, there’s hardly anyone else around, which means neither of them has to worry too much about running into other people. 

As they hike on, Sunny turns to them every so often with questions about things that she sees. She inquires about how squirrels can climb vertically up a trunk, how woodpeckers peck so fast without getting hurt, and why leaves on trees turn from green to orange in the fall.

It isn’t until after her third question that Hal realizes that she probably hasn’t seen much of this in person before as he and Snake take turns answering her to the best of their ability.

Eventually, once her curiosity is adequately sated, she skips ahead along the path. Snake keeps pace a few steps behind her like a shadow, while Hal, predictably, lags behind.

He uses the opportunity to take a mental picture of the scene before him, gaze swapping between Snake and Sunny. He thinks about how far they’ve come in the past six months. Thinks about how Snake, who once bristled at the idea of looking after Sunny permanently is now watching after her without complaint.

He remembers the first week Sunny was in their care and how Snake pointedly kept his distance until Hal, frustrated and annoyed, told him to cut it out with the aloofness and to just try.

It wasn’t until Hal snapped at him that Snake grudgingly admitted that he wasn’t avoiding her out of indifference or resentment, but that he was afraid of screwing her up. He was so afraid of shouldering the responsibility of doing right by her that he was unwilling to even make an attempt. 

But, once he said it out loud, Snake seemed to realize how lackluster of an excuse it was.

And ever since, Snake’s been making a genuine effort. Maybe that’s what this whole “quit smoking” bet is about. Maybe it’s another way of proving to Hal and to himself that he’s trying his best, that he's trying to be different from what he used to be.

When the trail starts to steepen, Snake crouches down and lets Sunny clamber onto his shoulders. He stands back up with ease and continues walking, pace hardly effected, like she weighs nothing.

Hal catches up to them at the top, where they find a bench at the overlook and settle in to eat the snacks they brought; they have little sandwiches that Snake had prepped and ready to go in little paper bags before Hal and Sunny even woke up. 

Hal hesitates before opening his, half-afraid of what he’ll find. Over the past few years, he’s learned that Snake’s idea of what constitutes a “sandwich” isn’t exactly standard.

Back in the day, Snake used to throw together absolute monstrosities with whatever they had in their safehouse fridge. He’d once slapped a piece of beef jerky between two pieces of wheat bread and seemed genuinely baffled when Hal burst out laughing until he realized that Snake was being serious.

But, thankfully, today’s sandwiches are normal. Egg salad. Sunny’s favorite. Judging by the streaks of mayo lining her cheeks after her first bite, Snake’s made sure to add extra.

Snake finishes eating first, as usual. It’s a habit he’s held the whole time Hal’s known him, despite him always telling him to slow down and actually taste the food, though Snake never really listens. 

Food finished, Snake brushes his hands off, mutters something about stretching his legs, and walks a short distance off towards the scenic overlook, still within Hal and Sunny’s view but slightly hidden behind a tree. 

Hal’s mid-bite when he notices that Sunny stops chewing. Her eyes narrow in suspicion the farther Snake walks away.

“Is he s-smoking?”

He could be. Hal leans to her conspiratorially. “I can go check. Do you want me to go sneak up on him?”

Sunny perks up. “Okay!”

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

He stands and tries to mimic everything he’s ever watched Snake do over grainy security camera feeds. He steps slowly, featherlight, knees bent to absorb the impact of his footfalls. He avoids twigs, branches, and leaves, careful not to make a sound. 

He feels like an absolute moron.

When he finally gets close enough to Snake, he’s surprised to find that Snake isn’t actually smoking. He’s just standing there, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, gazing out at the lake, completely and utterly relaxed.

“Hal,” Snake says without turning.

Hal freezes in his tracks. “How did you know I was here?”

Snake glances over his shoulder. "You sneak like an amateur.”

Hal puffs up, about to defend himself, then deflates, because in his heart he knows it’s true. 

“Thought you were up to no good,” Hal says, standing upright and approaching him. He sidles close to Snake to steal a bit of his warmth; after sitting still and eating, his heart rate’s dropped low enough from the hike that he’s starting to shiver.

Snake obliges, silently slipping an arm around his shoulder and pulling Hal closer.  “Up to no good, huh?” 

“You know,” Hal says, miming pulling a long drag from an invisible cigarette, complete with a dramatic exhale. “We thought you were sneaking off to cheat on your little bet.”

Snake snorts and pulls his pockets inside out to prove that they’re empty. No cigarettes. Not even a lighter, which, for Snake, is practically unheard of. Hal’s seen him jump through many hoops over the years to smuggle them on missions. To see him go out without them on his person is quite an accomplishment.

"Want more proof?” Snake says, leaning in even closer. 

Hal regards him warily. “What kind?”

“Kiss me. I promise you won’t taste a thing.”

Hal scoffs, but feels his face flush, even after all this time. “You sure about that?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Hal laughs, leans in to press their lips together briefly. He already knows Snake’s telling the truth- he would’ve smelled the smoke from a mile away. Still, when they pull apart, Hal gives him an affirming nod as if confirming his claim. 

“Alright,” Hal says. “You pass.”

Snake hums, then his gaze drifts past Hal, back out toward the overlook.

“The view’s nice,” he says.

Hal follows his gaze and… yeah. 

“Nice” is a severe understatement. Leave it to Snake to understate the beauty of something as picturesque as Lake Tahoe. 

From this elevated outlook, they have a big, all-encompassing view of the lake and the surrounding forest. The pines stretch for miles, standing tall; proof of hundreds of years of growth, strength, and resilience. Far below, the water of the lake reflects sunlight and shimmers as if made of crystals.

It’s nothing like the grey metal walls of the Nomad.

It’s beautiful. It’s alive. Green, blue, lush and noisy with birdcalls and insect trills, backed by the wind rustling through leaves. 

“It is,” Hal says. ?Really, it is.

-

The next day, they venture down to the lake itself.

When they get there, Hal rolls the bottom of his pants up and pulls off his shoes and socks, fully expecting to enjoy a nice, refreshing wade in the water. 

But, as it turns out, the water is freezing. Hal hisses out a quick “fuck” before stepping out and retreating up the bank where Sunny’s already resolutely set on collecting rocks; she has absolutely zero interest in going in the lake. Smart.

Snake, meanwhile, snorts as he walks past Hal on his way to the water. Hal turns and watches as Snake takes off his shoes and shirt, then wades in without even flinching; first to his ankles, then his knees, his waist, until the water’s lapping incessantly at his ribs.

“Show off!” Hal calls.

Snake responds by disappearing under the surface completely, coming back up seconds later with his hair drenched and plastered to his forehead. He floats for a while, eyes closed, as if he’s so relaxed that he could fall asleep.

Hal suspects that the freezing water’s probably just agonizing enough to distract Snake from the lingering nicotine headache he’s been complaining about all morning. That, or the mind-boggling fact that the wintry cold just doesn’t affect him the way it does regular people.

Snake had managed to brave the cold of Alaska for a time, back when he was retired. 

Then again, Hal thinks wryly, so did I. But he, on the other hand, had been so consumed with working on REX that, even now, he can’t remember if the cold ever bothered him at all.

When Snake finally comes back to shore ten minutes later, Sunny runs up to him to show off her growing collection of stones.

Snake crouches beside her, still dripping, and inspects the ones she’s holding out to him. Hal watches Snake single out three that are flat, smooth, and small enough to fit in his palm. He hands one to Sunny, hands one to Hal, and keeps one for himself.

“These are the best ones for skipping,” he says, pinching his between his fingers.

They head back to the water's edge and Snake demonstrates first, explaining as he does so. 

“Bend your knees, flick your wrist, swing low, and follow through.” 

Hal and Sunny watch in awe as Snake’s stone skips seven times before sinking fifty feet away.

He turns to Hal. “Your turn.”

Hal tries his best, but fails to throw the stone perfectly parallel to the water. His rock only skips twice before sinking in the shallows.

Snake claps a hand on his back and grunts out a “nice try.” 

Sunny’s next. She steps forward, clutching a rock that’s nearly as big as her entire hand. She mimics Snake’s stance from before and throws it.

The rock skips once, twice, five times before vanishing into the depths.

Snake lets out an impressed whistle when Sunny looks up at him for approval.

“You’re a natural.”

Delighted, Sunny immediately departs to begin searching for more rocks, returning a minute later to Snake and Hal to ask them if the rocks she found are suitable for throwing. 

She ends up recruiting both of them to assist in her efforts, and soon enough, they have a sizable arsenal of stones at their feet, a whole stockpile of ammo ready to be launched across the lake.

-

They spend every night of the week stargazing, bundled up in thick jackets and lounging in camping chairs around the blazing fire pit behind their cabin.

The physicality of it- freezing his ass off with his neck sore from looking straight up- reminds Hal of the early days he spent with Snake in Alaska, back when Philanthropy was still up in the air and he and Snake were still figuring each other out.

Snake hadn’t been much of a talker then- still isn’t, even know- but at night, when it had already been dark for hours but still too early to turn in, he would tap Hal on the shoulder at his impromptu work station and then gesture for Hal to follow him out to the back porch.

“I want to show you something.”

Hal followed, though, at the time he didn’t really want to. While Snake’s cabin wasn’t warm, it was certainly warmer than the ten degrees it was outside, and Hal’s always been one to crave creature comforts. 

But still, he was, for whatever reason, afraid of saying no to Snake, as well as desperate for Snake to take a liking to him, so he followed with a dozen huskies trailing behind him.

The first time Snake beckoned him out, Hal sat beside him stiffly on the porch steps, shoes sinking into the snow, all while trying not to shiver and change his mind.

But then he looked up and for the first time saw how much brighter the stars were out there in Twin Lakes, and suddenly he found no reason to complain.

Snake had broken the silence with short facts about the stars and how to make out constellations, how to derive east and west from Venus, how to discern a planet from a sun, all while taking slow drags from his cigarette.

Now, what feels like a lifetime later, Hal finds himself pointing out much of those same constellations to Sunny, the same way Snake once had for him.

And when Hal glances over to look at his partner, Snake is watching him with a faintly surprised look, like he’s only just now realizing that Hal had indeed been paying attention all those years ago.

Sunny listens as the two of them pick up after each other, naming constellations and planets, some faint, some bright.

“Do you see… up there? That cluster of stars- that’s Puppis. The bright one near the bottom is called Naos. It’s a supergiant.”

“S-supergiant?”

“Snake just means it’s really big star.”

“Uh-huh. And it burns hotter and brighter than any other star, right up until it explodes.”

“It ex-explodes?”

“Don’t worry. It’s millions of light-years away. We’re perfectly safe.”

“Can’t hurt us.”

“Oh,” Sunny breathes, gazing up with new eyes, like she understands a little better now.

They continue on all night, pointing out whatever they can see: Canis Minor, Sirius, the Pleiades, Venus, Jupiter, all glittering millions of miles away, beautiful and untouchable.

It’s Hal’s favorite part of their nightly routine, up until the fire burns out and Sunny inevitably nods off, leaving one of them to carry her inside and set her down.

And Snake, against all odds, has somehow managed to keep up his end of the bet. Each night, when Hal checks the cigarette pack he hid under his side of the mattress, fully expecting to find one missing, he always gets proven wrong.

-

The night before they’re set to leave, Snake stays up. 

It’s enough of a deviation from their usual routine that his doing so strikes Hal as odd. 

All week, the three of them have been passing out before ten, absolutely worn out from sightseeing and being out all day. But tonight, even after their stargazing session’s over and Sunny’s tucked in, Snake doesn’t start getting ready for bed.

When Hal finishes brushing his teeth, he wanders out to the living room where he finds Snake lying on the couch, hands behind his head, eyes open. He’s watching the clock tick above the mantle like it’s New Year’s Eve.

It only takes a moment for Hal to realize why. In just a couple of minutes, it will be midnight, which means that his little bet with Sunny will officially come to an end.

And surely enough, once the clock strikes twelve, Snake sits up, glances at Hal, and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket with a playfully rougish look.

Hal sighs. Of course Snake knew where he hid those.

He watches  Snake get up and slip out the front door. Then, after a moment of debating if he should or shouldn’t, Hal shrugs on a coat and follows, careful to close the door softly behind him so as not to wake Sunny up. 

By the time he makes it outside, Snake’s already in the process of breathing out a long and satisfying exhale.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” Hal teases. He settles with crossing his arms and leaning against the wall a few feet away; he isn’t keen on getting smoke blown in his face. 

Snake takes in another long drag, ember tip crackling in the dark, clearly savoring every sacred second.

“Nope,” Snake says. “Been looking forward to this all week.”

They don’t say much after that. Snake smokes and Hal watches. It’s a routine they've fallen into a hundred times before. 

But Hal’s tired. And he’s freezing. And he desperately wants to go inside and crawl under the covers, though he knows if he does, Snake will probably stay out and continue smoking until sunrise. He’s debating heading inside to grab a second coat when the door creaks open behind them.

They both turn.

Sunny peeks out, hair a bit messy from sleep, but the moment she sees Snake smoking, her face cracks into a giddy grin.

“I won!”

Snake’s face goes flat as he abandons the drag he was going for. “What.”

“You- you lose!” Sunny exclaims. “It’s n-not midnight yet!”

Before either of them can question her, Sunny presents to them the little digital clock from her nightstand. They both lean in. 

It clearly reads 11:57.

Snake lets out a little “huh.” He looks at Hal, who glances at his own watch after remembering that he’s wearing one. Indeed,  his time matches Sunny’s.

“Sorry, Snake,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I think… the clock inside must be slow. I guess we've been outside so much that we never noticed.”

Snake blinks slowly, the consequence of his loss dawning on him. Then rubs a hand over his face, through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. Characteristically, that’s the extent of his self-disappointment. For all his innate pride, Hal’s never known Snake to be a sore loser.

“Alright, kid,” Snake says, impassive expression morphing into slight amusement at the sight of Sunny’s clear excitement. “You win. Fair’s fair. What do you want?”

Sunny bounces on her toes.

“Chickens!”

Snake and Hal share a baffled look.

Snake speaks first. “Chickens? Of all the animals you could possibly… You don’t want anything different? A dog? A goldfish?” he pauses. “A snake?”

“David…” Hal warns. Don’t give her any ideas.

“I w-want chickens,” Sunny insists, clearly too excited to notice their doubts. “They’re cute, and- and smart. I can teach them tricks."

“Plus-" she says, confidently nodding, as if she knows what she’s about to say next will truly seal the deal, “-they lay eggs.”

Before either of them can respond, Sunny exclaims: “Oh! W-wait!!” and scurries back inside.

A moment later, she returns with her little spiral notebook and shows them pages of meticulous, handwritten research notes. The inside of it contains rough sketches of coop schematics, a long pros and cons list comparing raising chicks vs buying grown hens, as well as potential feeding schedules and viable brands of feed and bedding.

She obliges when Hal asks to take the book from her, and he flips through it, impressed. She must’ve had this on her mind long before the bet; the notes she’s made are terrifyingly thorough. When Snake stands to lean over his shoulder and read as well, he lets out a grunt that may or may not signify his approval.

"Huh. Thought this was a sketchbook," Snake jokes.

Hal knows, from a practical standpoint, that clearing out enough space on the Nomad for a coop should be no problem. The plane itself is built for at least a dozen people to reside in and if he’s being honest with himself, designing a coop does sound like a fun side-project. 

Additionally, the cost of chicken feed and bedding won’t exactly break the bank when compared to the amount of smokes Snake burns through on a monthly basis. Plus, chickens aren’t extremely high-maintenance, and the eggs would be a nice bonus. Logistically speaking, fulfilling Sunny’s request is not impossible.

“Alright, Sunny,” Hal says, handing her the notebook back and herding her inside. “Uncle Snake and I will talk it over. For now, it’s time for bed. Don’t forget-” he glances back at Snake. “We all have to wake up early tomorrow. Liftoff is at noon.”

Sunny hugs the notebook to her chest. “I’m n-not even tired.”

“Sure you’re not,” Hal says softly. He bends down to scoop her up, heart aching at how much heavier she seems to get every time he does so, and carries her back into the warmth of the cabin.

Behind them, Snake stays where he is, cigarette held loose between his fingers. Hal closes the door softly behind him, leaving Snake to his last few minutes of quiet.

-

“You’re really gonna let her get chickens?” Snake asks later that night, pressed flush against Hal in the sheets.

Hal groans. He was just about to fall asleep.

“You already know the answer,” he responds. “You promised her. And it’s important for us to set a good example by keeping our word. So, yes, if it works out logistically, we will. ”

“I’m not cleaning chicken shit,” Snake grumbles.

Hal snorts, eyes drifting closed again. “We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes.”

Snake doesn’t respond, and for a second Hal thinks that's the end of it. 

He’s half-asleep again when Snake mumbles: “It’s been nice, you know. Wish we could stay longer.”

Hal swallows the sudden sentimental lump that appears in his throat. Hal does know. It’s been nice- more than nice- living like they’re normal people, a normal family.

Which must be why he suddenly hears himself say: “We can still go camping. If you want.”

“You hate camping,” Snake says.

Hal pauses. It’s true, he used to. Hal had never gone camping as a child, or as an adult, for that matter; the very first time he camped was with Snake, and they’d done it out of pure necessity rather than a shared passion for the great outdoors.

He supposes now, with a real tent, properly rated sleeping bags, and Sunny, it wouldn’t be half as bad.

“I used to hate camping,” Hal corrects. “But I’m willing to give it another shot. Sunny will probably love it.”

“You might learn to love it too, if you keep an open mind.”

“I doubt it,” Hal says. 

Snake snorts. “Wanna bet?”