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It's a few hours into their spontaneous BBQ, meat sizzling over the campfire on the beach, booze passing from soldier to soldier, when Medic notices one certain man missing. His brow draws into a worried frown, eyes flitting over every person again to make sure–
An elbow knocks into his side. “Want some?”, Crocodile says, offering him a beer but Medic declines with a wave of his hand, muttering a polite “No, thanks”. The other shrugs. “Suit yourself. So, what's up?”
“Hm?”
“I know that look on your face, man. The something's-wrong-and-I-don't-know-why look, yeah, there, you're doing it again.”
Medic huffs, rubs his hand down his face to try and wipe it away. “It's nothing”, he hesitates, then: “Probably nothing... Say, did you see the Commander anywhere?”
“Miller?” Crocodile looks around, making a pensive noise. “Huh. I was already wondering why everything's so quiet today.”
They both smile at that, eyes glinting with the memory of similar nights gone wild. Every recruit, so it seems, has a good drinking story featuring their Commander; Medic thinks not of the escapades – God knows having to treat one hungover recruit after another the day after takes a bit of the fun out of it – but of evenings where it's just the two of them sharing a bottle of rum as they talk about anything that comes to mind, the topic drifting from idle chitchat to more serious things until they're tentatively voicing thoughts they can't say anywhere else. This stays between us is never said aloud but always goes implied.
“Now that you mention it, though...”
Crocodile's voice draws Medic's attention back to the situation at hand. He straightens up a little, trying to hide his lack in attention by humming questioningly. Crocodile either doesn't notice or doesn't mind, carrying on with a faraway look in his eyes:
“I think I saw him get up a while ago, said something about going to grab... His guitar? More booze? Can't remember, sorry. Wasn't really paying much attention, I guess–“
He's cut off by Medic standing up to take his leave, an idea popping up in his head. He pats Crocodile on the shoulder, “Thanks, take care of the kids for me, okay?”, and smiles at the fond eye roll and the “Yeah, yeah...” he gets in return. Medic says goodbye to a few others on his way out, earning himself a good-natured if decidedly drunk hug from Tiger and a freshly-opened can of beer from Peacock. “Just take it before Mosquito drinks it all again”, she says, pointing at said man who just finished a joke and is now laughing at it boisterously.
He still has it in his hand when he walks back to camp, passing by the mostly empty barracks – most recruits are either still on the beach or out on missions – until he rounds the corner to the cabin. There, the quiet of the night is only interrupted by a lone cricket chirping in the distance and the soft tone of a guitar wafting through an opened window. Enjoying the sound, Medic slows his approach, trying to keep his steps light as he climbs the short stairway to the entrance. He forgets to side-step the loose plank at the end of it, though. The creaking of the old wooden floor interrupts the music. Silence falls suddenly.
“Commander?”
He hears Kazuhira exhale, then the rustle of movement; Medic hovers at the door step and waits. The beach house still feels off limits to him despite the odd invitation here and there, to meetings work-related and private alike.
The door opens from the inside. Kazuhira greets him, his deep voice level, eyes as always covered by the aviators. At night, the tinted glass looks a solid black, impenetrable. The small smile on his lips is a good sign, though; Medic concentrates on that, his eyes flitting over the other's relaxed posture. He's out of his usual uniform, instead dressed in only his camo pants and a tank top and he tears himself away before he can get stuck on the sight of his bared arms.
Get it together, Vincente, he's your CO.
The smile turns sly and Kazuhira shifts, cocking his hip against the frame of the door. Putting himself on display. “Anything you need, doc?”
Medic knows it's just the way he is and yet, hope flares up in his chest that refuses to die no matter how irrational it is. He clears his throat.
“No, I, uh... Just wanted to know if everything's alright. You were gone all of the sudden and–“
Kazuhira huffs out a laugh, barely more than a chuckle. It sounds fond and, more importantly, it stops Medic's graceless stumbling over words.
“And you got worried. Sorry, I should've told you I'm off to bed.” A pause. “Anyone ever tell you you're a bit of a mother hen?”
“Yes. You did, actually, just a few days ago”, Medic says, tone decidedly sullen as he's met by a flash of white teeth, the grin wide enough to make Kazuhira's eyes squint. He wishes he could see them.
“That I did. Now that you're here, though, wanna come in? You can drink that inside.”
Kazuhira points at his hand and Medic looks down at the can he's still holding. He'd forgotten about it already. Left without a way to refuse – not that he wants to, not really – he complies with a shrug, following him inside. Light pours out the bedroom on the other end, a beacon in the otherwise dark cabin.
“Where's the Boss?”, Medic asks to break the silence. Kazuhira gestures for him to step into the room first, closing the door behind them before he makes his way to his desk and lets himself fall into the chair. Medic sits down on the edge of the bed across from him. He's acutely aware it's Kazuhira's.
“Went on a stroll, I think. He seemed kinda tense but don't ask me what pissed him off.”
Again, Medic frowns, trying to think of anything that could've ticked his Boss off but he gives up fairly quick. If Kaz can't figure him out, nobody else will. He jumps when something brushes his cheek, blinking sheepishly first at the little ball of paper that drops into his lap, then at the only possible source of it.
Kazuhira raises an eyebrow. Medic ignores the challenge, taking the paper to roll it between his fingers instead.
A short sigh. “Stop worrying already. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself just fine. Now are you gonna drink that or not?”
Medic shakes his head. “Beer is not really my thing. Peacock wanted me to have it so I just took it.” He offers it to him a moment later, smiling when he sees the other already reaching for it. Their fingers brush for an instant. Kazuhira leans back and drinks, the muscles in his throat working as he swallows.
“Much obliged, doc.”
Medic merely hums, looking for something else to focus on. His gaze falls on the guitar to his left, leaning against the bed frame – he checks for permission to take it, doing so when Kazuhira nods and says, “Go right ahead.” The wood feels cool to the touch and is clearly worn with use, partly faded on the neck and thinning out considerably near the sound hole. Medic adjusts his grip automatically, left on the fingerboard, right on the strings.
“Know how to play it?”
“Only a little”, he mutters, coaxing out a few random chords before he settles into a song he knows by memory. “I'm more used to playing cuatro.”
Brow furrowing in concentration, he jumps ahead to the faster part of the song, soon struggling to play it correctly, the instrument a bit too big and heavy in his hands. Stopping altogether, he scratches his chin, fingers rasping against the five o'clock shadow that grew over the day. “See? I mess it up eventually.”
“Do that again.” The request comes as a surprise and Medic looks up, heart fluttering as he meets the intensity of Kazuhira's eyes on him. He's leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, head propped on loose fists. His glasses rest atop a few files beside him, the beer placed on the desk as well, discarded for now. “What? Come on, I wanna see the thing you do with your hand. Or did you forget how to play all of the sudden?”
Something like that. He sets his fingers back into position, trying not to tense now that he knows he has a rapt audience. It doesn't help that the man can play it perfectly, the guitar Medic feels so clumsy with only really coming alive in Kazuhira's skilled hands. To his mortification, he feels his face heat up. Don't think about his hands.
Kazuhira doesn't rush him, just waits for him in rare silence. He doesn't comment either on the few off-key notes when Medic starts the song from the beginning, playing it in full if only to buy himself some time before the inevitable failure at the harder bits. As his fingers dance over the strings, he finds himself relaxing again, soon forgetting to be nervous altogether. The familiar sound brings the thought of warm summer nights sitting outside, making music with his sister: him on the cuatro, Mari on vocals. She sings so well, he thinks, longing bubbling up inside him. The song feels incomplete without her.
He still messes up the ending but he pushes through it. Song finished, he sighs, stilling the residue vibration of the strings with the flat of his hand. “Told you I–“
“You have a beautiful singing voice.”
Out of everything Medic expected the other to say, that isn't it. Every thought screeches to a halt in his head, mouth opening without a single idea how to respond to that. Kazuhira looks surprised at his own words, too, adding “You know, for a guy” after a moment's hesitation. The laugh that follows sounds forced.
“Uh, thanks.” Medic wills away the blood that rises to his cheeks. “How do you know?”
“Wha– Oh, you were humming. To the song, I mean.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
A beat of silence. The creak of Kazuhira's chair interrupts the awkward tension in the room as he shifts his weight to cross his legs. He nods to him. “What were you thinking of? You looked miles away for a second there.”
Medic latches onto the question. Talking about his family is easy. “My sister, Mari. It's her favorite song... I don't know how often I played it for her. She never got tired of it.” He chuckles, his voice a few tones higher as he imitates her: “'Otra vez, otra vez! Vince, por fa!'”
“Lemme guess, you never said 'no gracias'?”
“Nope. She had me wrapped around her tiny little finger alright.”
They laugh together at that, the other shaking his head fondly. “Of course she did. So pleading eyes work on you, huh? Duly noted.”
Yes they do. Medic snorts. “It works if it's a little girl doing it and not a grown man, Kaz. You have to earn it, fair and square.”
“So you're saying you're gonna sing me a song, then? If I behave.”
Medic is sure this conversation will be the death of him. “If you behave, which we both know you won't so there's no point in assuming any of this will ever take place.”
“Ouch. Your words wound me, doc, they really do.”
There's that teasing grin again and this time, Medic can see it: the corner of Kazuhira's eyes crinkle, gaze soft with a glint of fondness in it. He swallows, opting to roll his eyes instead of attempting to say anything witty. Kazuhira chuckles to himself for a moment longer, then:
“I still wanna know how you do it, though.”
He points at the guitar when Medic only tilts his head questioningly. “How do you find time to knock on the wood while playing? How does that work?”
Ah. Medic hums, thinking of a way to explain it. His mind comes up blank. “I can show you, if you want?” He pats the spot beside him, scooting over a little.
Kazuhira crosses the room and makes himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged to his right. His knee brushes Medic's thigh, he's so close.
Medic takes a deep breath. This definitely will be the death of him.
*
“Medic, we've got another one!”
He tells his current patient to keep his mouth shut and the thermometer under his tongue a little while longer and only when Gnu nods, bleary eyes a little more focused, does Medic look up. Armadillo lowers the stretcher to let him see the new arrival's face, flushed and sweaty. It's Hyena.
“Put her over there”, he points at a cot further down the aisle, one of the few left unoccupied, “I'll be right with you.”
The thermometer beeps once – 38,9°C. Medic gives Gnu a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand before he makes his way to get more supplies, mumbling a few choice curses under his breath. He makes a mental note to order more antipyretics, noting he's running low on a few other things as well–
A knock on the door signals Lynx's presence. “Sir, we need your advice on how to proceed with–“
“Tree frog?”, Medic interrupts his assistant, walking past him and back out to the med bay. Lynx nods. “Increase the dosage and keep him hydrated. Sponge him down, if you can. I'll come as soon as I can.” He doesn't have time to check if the other is following his orders, his attention needed elsewhere already.
It's deep into the night when things finally slow down enough to grant him a break. Medic grabs his canteen and drinks half its contents in one go before he roots through his desk, looking for the snacks he keeps there in case of emergencies like these. With the condition of most patients staying the night bordering on critical, the way to the mess hall is simply too long – if they get worse they'll need help, fast. Resorting to the few bars of Calorie Mate he managed to keep safe from the Boss, Medic allows himself a few minutes to just sit there, munching away at the too-dry food without tasting anything.
It's the second week into a heavy outbreak of the flu and there's nothing to be done but to ride it out till the end. Providing temporary relief from the symptoms is all he can manage at the moment, him and the team of medics under his command stretched thin. Operations have been suspended until the soldiers are ready to move out again and for that, Medic is grateful. They're stressed enough as it is without adding ambulant surgery to the mix.
Medic sighs, rubbing his sore neck. With everyone cared for at the moment, he decides he can afford a more personal visit. He pockets the last Calorie Mate and remembers to refill his canteen, then he makes his way as quietly as he can down the aisle. There, behind the door separating the med bay from the operation room, sits one Kazuhira Miller – it's apparent at first glance that he's not happy, face set in a deep frown, hunched over what looks like financial reports.
Medic has to actively counteract the urge to take those files. “You know you should be resting and not working, Commander”, he says, voice smooth nonetheless. It's not like he expected anything else.
“I am resting”, comes the snappy response. Kazuhira rubs at his eyes for a moment before he exhales heavily, shoulders slumping. “Sorry, just... I've been sitting on my ass doing nothing for days now. I can't just keep doing nothing, doc.”
It's hard to keep his expression neutral at the other's look of misery. Medic closes the few steps of distance between them, checking his temperature with the back of his hand. A bit too warm, but all in all a far cry from his nearly life-threatening fever a few days ago. He drops his hand to Kazuhira's shoulder, giving him a consoling pat.
“I know, Kaz. Just gotta make sure you'll be okay for more than 48 hours before somebody has to drag you back here again.” He doesn't look convinced. Medic's grip tightens. “Please don't make them drag you back.”
Kazuhira rolls his eyes. “... Fine.” He sets aside the documents and leans back, arms crossed.
Satisfied for now, Medic grabs a chair from the desk tucked into the corner, settling down to keep his friend some company. Something in his pocket digs into his thigh and he frowns, digging out the snack he stored there. After a moment of consideration, he throws it into Kazuhira's lap where it lands with a soft thud.
“Gee, thanks. Is this my treat for behaving? Nothing like feeling like a dog...” He picks up the Calorie Mate despite his complaint, taking the first bite. Medic can't help but smirk at that mental image, the muffled “Woof” coming from Kazuhira turning it into a full grin.
“A dog, huh? Your words, not mine. And actually... No. I had something else in mind.”
Before Kazuhira can ask what he means, he reaches for the black bag under the cot, pulling it out and opening it to reveal the guitar. It's the same one he played all those months ago – or has it been a year already? – looking only slightly the worse for wear. Their shared jamming sessions that started after that night have become more rare, now that Mother Base is up and running, keeping them busy enough on its own. Medic misses them.
He can see a similar sentiment in Kazuhira's smile. “What's this? A private concert?”, he asks, the exhaustion on his face making way for excitement when Medic nods, returning the smile.
“I promised, remember? So I thought...”, he half-shrugs, half-gestures to the guitar in his lap. “It's been a while, though. Promise me not to laugh.”
Kazuhira manages to look somewhat innocent. “I wouldn't.”
You would, Medic thinks but doesn't contest the statement out loud. He starts playing an idle tune to get used to it, eyes lowered to his own hands. The intro eventually flows into the main theme of the song he's prepared for this – one Kazuhira recognizes easily if his small gasp is any indication, barely audible over the music.
“Paz gave me the sheets. The, uh, English version. I hope you don't mind”, Medic says, checking in with a quick glance.
Kazuhira is staring at Medic's hands. The words register a moment later and he blinks, meeting his gaze unsteadily. “Y-yeah, of course, I–“, he stops, eyebrows pushing together as if he was confused by something. He doesn't continue.
If this were anybody else than over-confident, suave Kazuhira Miller, Medic would say he's flustered. He tries not to let that observation get to his head. He's nervous enough already, thinking This is a stupid idea over and over again but he can't back down now so he takes a deep breath and starts the song anew, properly this time.
The fear of forgetting the lyrics or the score or both proves to be unfounded. The few minutes of practice he squeezed in every day for the last week pays off now as the song progresses smoothly. Medic gets lost in it, keeping his voice low to not disturb the other patients but loud enough to be heard clearly. Kazuhira is utterly silent, not even a rustle of fabric coming from him; Medic is dying to know his thoughts in this moment or at least what expression he's wearing. If Paz is to be believed, this is the first time he hears his own song played in full, with vocals.
It's only near the end that Medic dares to look up, having closed his eyes for most of it to concentrate on what he's doing. The sight he's greeted with almost makes him stumble, almost – then he smiles, eyes going soft as he dedicates the rest of it all the more to the man he loved, and still loves, with his whole heart.
Because while he's giving him this, a part of himself so close to his heart only his sister knows of it, Kazuhira has set aside all pretense and false bravado. Because, for once, the man sitting in front of him doesn't hide what he's feeling behind a mask, genuine vulnerability etched into every detail of his expression down to the unshed tears in his eyes.