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Kaz hated the music. He knew he would. But that was fine; it wasn't like he was going to dance to it anyway.
He wouldn't have come to the party at all if Venom hadn't dragged him out here with one pleading blue eye and a promise to wear his new tuxedo. Venom had suggested the idea himself: the better part of the combat personnel had just returned from weeks on deployment after a very successful - and profitable - mission with considerable support from the rest of Mother Base, especially the intel division. Both sides wanted to do something to celebrate, and Venom wanted a party. Kaz'd shot him down: it was a waste of money, a waste of time, a waste of personnel that probably wouldn't be fit for duty the next day. Why not a special dinner in the mess? A few drinks? Some extra leave?
Venom would have seen his wisdom and relented - Kaz was already mentally preparing a menu - but, naturally, that goat-fucking Russian cowboy had seized on the idea as soon as he'd heard it. He went on and on about how incredible it would be to Venom, how good for morale. Then he spread rumours around the base that it was happening, like some catty teenage schoolgirl, leaving Kaz with the option of raining on the collective parade of every member they had, including the Boss himself, or letting him win. Again.
And so it was that room was cleared between shipping containers for a makeshift dance floor, with the lights of the surrounding watchtowers fitted with coloured filters and turned inwards. The PA system was rigged to a stereo to play whatever music they could scrounge up from the tapes the Diamond Dogs stole, captured, smuggled, or brought with them when they came. It was a terrible mish-mash of songs and genres that didn't work together well at all, and Kaz was embarrassed for everyone involved.
Luckily, he'd had the foresight to set up a bar beside a few benches just outside the circle of garish lights. There he sat, nursing a beer, glowering, and otherwise generally enjoying Venom's company.
Big Boss didn't dance. "Couldn't" was a hard label to give to... what Kaz had seen him do the first time he'd witnessed it. He wasn't awkward or uncoordinated - far, far from it. Big Boss had a mastery over the motions of his body that few men, living or dead, would ever attain. But in the sheer, brutal efficiency of his movements there was nothing to waste on grace, elegance, or waiting for a partner. He'd trained for a lifetime to be out of sync with those he moved against, to look for openings, to antagonize, and the result was precisely as fluid and beautiful as an apex predator ripping apart his prey's hamstrings.
Which suited Kaz just fine. Venom bobbed his head in time with the catchier pop tunes, but showed no interest in forging out to fight the music. They could drink the night away together watching everyone else make idiots out of themselves.
He frowned and drained his glass when some former Soviet soldier on the intel team pulled out a guitar, cringing preemptively at the thought of this debacle descending into amateur musician hour. The tune was slow, folksy, and not one Kaz recognized.
It sent Ocelot on a beeline straight over to their bench, though, and that was enough to make Kaz hate it. He was grinning ear-to-ear and tapping his foot while he laid his red-gloved hand on Venom's shoulder. "You know this one, Boss."
"He doesn't dance," Kaz snapped, and grabbed Venom's arm just in time to keep him from being yanked away by the hateful man-cougar.
"He can dance to this one, trust me," Ocelot intoned soothingly. Confidently. Snidely.
Akh, pod sosnoyu, pod zelenoyu, the Russian with the guitar began to croon, and it seemed like every goddamn Russian on the dance floor was smiling, Ocelot included.
"You don't know that," Kaz growled, noticing the way Venom was, in fact, swaying with the music. "There's a lot he doesn't remember."
"Right," Ocelot disingenuously agreed. "But dancing, like most movements, is muscle memory. These are stored in the cerebellum, which wasn't damaged in the crash. The Boss still remembers how to run, swim, and shoot, doesn't he?"
"Kaz," Venom offered quietly, by way of apology that he was going to do exactly what Ocelot wanted, again. "It's just one song."
"Fine." Kaz released him with a scowl, just as half the intel division started singing along and clapping. Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya!
Kaz waved for a refill, irritation at the noise dulled by schadenfreude as it became increasingly apparent that their Boss had no idea how to dance to this song. Ocelot tried to show him a few simple moves and Venom responded with utter bafflement and a few awkward stomps. In his defense, if Big Boss could dance to anything it would probably be this: athletic and masculine and boisterous and mostly just kicking and spinning on his part. Ocelot looked genuinely frustrated, for once, and every second of it was just delicious.
At length he seemed to abandon the idea and simply hooked elbows with him, spinning the two of them until the music died down. Venom could manage that much. And to clap.
Kaz watched on as, every bit as flustered and sheepish, Venom made his apologies and retreated for the safety of the bar. At least, he tried to. Ocelot caught him by the tie and whispered something in his ear. Kaz ground his teeth.
He was surprised to hear... ballroom music?... begin to play from their stereo. The erstwhile DJ announced that Creeping Cheetah and Laughing Hyena - from the combat and intel divisions, respectively - wanted to celebrate their one month anniversary. Women being a scarce resource in the Diamond Dogs portfolio, they were one of the few straight couples around, and they wanted to tango. This garnered more than a few wolf whistles and raucous cheers.
Ocelot appeared to have a new, innovative form of torture in mind for Venom: trying to teach him to tango right there, in front of all of the men. With Ocelot leading. Kaz could see the red start to creep up from his collar as he tried the to follow, with tentative, stumbling steps. Venom was too good-natured to say no; Kaz wanted badly to rush out and rescue him from that Red bastard's clutches, but there was no way he could make it through the press of moving bodies before someone knocked him to the ground. Every woman present and looking to dance found a partner or three within seconds; men given the cold shoulder followed their Boss's lead and "jokingly" partnered up with their friends. Thus Kaz was in for more pouting and lectures about morale if he shouted for someone to turn the music off.
Gradually, Venom seemed to get the hang of it a little. He found the timing, at least, though he kept moving in the wrong direction and stepping on Ocelot's boots. He saw Ocelot laugh and shake his head: "No, no, you keep trying to lead. Here..."
Venom frowned thoughtfully, then--
Dipped Ocelot so far backwards he was forced to cling to his shoulders to keep from falling, and reversed positions of their hands.
It was gratifying to see Ocelot in genuine shock, his eyes wide and his mouth open; more so when Venom pulled him back up again and spun him around like a girl. Only then did Kaz notice that Venom's eye was closed. He caught Ocelot blind, hand on his waist, and began to move with him. Leading him.
They were a little halting at first, but Venom clearly knew the steps. Ocelot matched his small, hesitant motions diligently, letting him do exactly as he wished; astonishment transformed into curiosity. As he eased into it, Venom's eye opened, and he glanced down at his feet as if not quite believing what he was seeing.
Ocelot released his hand, caught his chin, and guided it back up to his face. Kaz thought he said, "Trust me," but it was lost under the sound of piano and footsteps on metal.
And Venom did. He guided Ocelot around the dance floor, adding length and complexity to each of their movements every time the other made it clear that he was ready for it. He was strong enough to spin and pull and carry and catch the Russian soldier as if he weighed no more than the slightest dancing girl; his expression went from embarrassment to bewilderment to uncertainty to utter pleasure at being able to move so well to the music.
For his part, Ocelot was the perfect follow. He turned on his heeled boots as if he weighed nothing at all; he needed no more prompting than the press of Venom's fingers into his waist or palm to do exactly what the other man wanted him to do. He moved elegantly; what he lacked in the way of sweeping skirts he made up for with the way his half-undone scarf flowed and fluttered behind them in the sea breeze.
Kaz wasn't the only one watching them. They cleared out a circle on the floor as other Diamond Dogs soldiers took notice. Their own efforts seemed laughable now. There were a few mock catcalls, but most were utterly engrossed by the captivating ease with which their Boss danced, completely unrehearsed.
As the music reached a crescendo, Ocelot pushed Venom backwards and made as if to walk away; Venom caught his hand and spun him right back into his arms, then swept the two of them around together with footwork so complicated that Kaz couldn't even follow it. All he knew was that when they and the music stopped, Ocelot's calf was hooked around Venom's thigh, and his hand was on Venom's chest.
Visions of stalking over and dumping his drink over Ocelot's head were so vivid Kaz might have done just that if it were physically possible for him to carry a drink and walk at the same time.
Ocelot's eyes were half-closed, and both of them were breathing hard. "Joh-"
"Thanks for the dance," Venom released him unceremoniously, to scattered applause from the Diamond Dogs present.
Then he waved to Kaz, before walking off to find Laughing Hyena to ask her for the next one. Ocelot looked so jilted Kaz's scowl transformed into a grin.
The next song was peppy synth pop; normally, Kaz would scoff, but at the moment it was just perfect. Venom had no problem falling into a rhythm with it, too, encouraging a few of the other men to actually try moving their legs and hips. The one after that was rock - he waved Quiet down from the watchtower and what she lacked in grace she made up for with enthusiasm, both of their ponytails thrashing wildly as they bobbed their heads. Venom asked every woman there to dance with him, and agreed, laughing, to any man who wanted to give it a shot too.
With joy etched so clearly across the other man's face Kaz couldn't help but smile, though he fought it every inch of the way. When he caught himself swaying to the music he shook himself with a grunt of displeasure. This was a terrible idea. Ocelot had vanished off to somewhere; now he didn't even have schadenfreude to tide him over.
And without that, he had... what, exactly? The grim satisfaction of knowing he would never, ever be able to share this joy with him.
Kaz was six beers deep by the time the DJ announced the last song. Something slow. Melodic. Several Diamond Dogs pulled out their lighters in anticipation. Kaz was curled over, nursing the seventh, when he noticed the outstretched hand in front of him.
"I don't dance," Kaz snapped morosely at his Boss, meaning that he couldn't.
"Not even for me?" Venom sounded so quiet, so gentle, that Kaz briefly wished he could hurl himself and everything he'd built with the man into the sea.
"...Fine." He set his cane and glass aside and took Venom's hand.
To his surprise, his Boss didn't pick him up like he'd thought he'd have to. He just wrapped his arms around his waist and swayed with him, slowly. His body pressed tightly to Kaz's. Like two teen dates on prom night who couldn't really dance; the song was just a flimsy excuse to touch.
But Venom moved to the music anyway and, by extension, so did Kaz. He pulled Kaz's face against his shoulder, lips brushing his ear.
"The last dance will always be yours, Kaz."
They stayed like that, swaying, long after the music stopped.