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Connecting The Dots Between Heaven and Hell

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As oblivious as Otacon may be, some things he did pick up on. The little things Snake did, perhaps out of habit, not accustomed to be living with someone else. Not bad things, per se, but subconcious things, ticks, habits, addictions.

Snake had been gracious enough to let Otacon live him until Shadow Moses blew over, though that turned into a lot more trouble than they had anticipated. Otacon cautiously waited for the day Snake would tire of him and kick him out, and while that hasn't happened yet, Snake was still on edge and somewhat hostile every time he interacted with Otacon. As if living together was a mission that he always had to be alert on. For example, just yesterday he saw Otacon making coffee in the kitchen his breath hitched just slightly and he hid behind the wall, like he had completely forgotten Otacon was there, despite how loudly he was clinking the spoon against the cracked, stained mug. 

I wonder if he has poor memory, Otacon pondered. Granted, it had only been a few weeks, but Snake would literally sometimes wear the sneaking suit around the house to keep his movements quiet. Still... This was his home, and if he really saw Otacon as a threat, he would have no qualms about telling him to book it. In fact, if it would put him more at ease, Otacon would take the initiative and leave. He had gotten contact information for Mei Ling and even if the three of them were apart, they could certainly keep in contact and continue their research. Every time his perception of calm eased over his internet monitoring, a forum on an unlisted website that blew up his laptop with ads would pull up the code words Metal Gear, to which he would pull Snake over and point everything out. Snake was fluent in a handful of languages and had a decent enough understanding of others to create context, but as they would scan the screen together, Snake was decently distanced away. 

Maybe it was time he brought that up to Snake. Glancing at his watch, Otacon read it was 5:31am. Now wouldn't be a good time, actually. Closing his laptop and stretching his back, his joints popped and he let out a thankful moan, yawning and standing up, kicking aside the blankets he had cocooned himself with and began to take his sweater off. When his crossed arms passed his head he could see a glint in the dark corner of the hallway. The house was otherwise silent, and Otacon narrowed it down to a spec on his glasses reflecting off the moonlight through the window, taking off his glasses and letting them click softly to the floor beside his feet. Once the hem was pulled past his chin, a shadow approached him in complete silence, quicker than he could process before he felt his arm twist, yanked behind his back as Snake pushed him face down into the sofa, sitting on his lower back and something--

"Snake!" He screamed, trying too hard not to thrash. "It's me! Otacon!" It took a few seconds for Snake to understand, turn the safety back on and tuck the gun into the waistband of his boxers. Releasing Otacon's arm and shifting his weight to his foot on the floor, Otacon rolled onto his back and faced Snake as he hovered over the other's hips.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He shrieked, grabbing at Snake's wrists, who quickly regained control and with a flash had Otacon's hands pinned together above his head, nose just barely inches away from Otacon's. "It's me," softening his voice to not scream in Snake's face and make things worse, Otacon tried to calm him; "It's me, Otacon. I'm not going to hurt you. Let me go." Out of the corner of his eye, Otacon could see Snake's free hand still hovering over his pistol, but the vague shape of his hand moved back and he stood up, took a half-step back and held out a hand to help Otacon up. He stared at it incredulously, which Snake then retreated and turned on his heel, slinking back towards the bedroom.

"Hey!" Otacon shouted, scrambling to his feet, "you can't just walk away from that! We need to talk, Snake!" 

"...Sorry."

"That's not going to cut it. We need to talk. Now." Begrudgingly, Snake turned around, finding purchase along the wall as he turned on the kitchen light, giving them enough visibility to see each other without the blinding sudden contrast. Hesitantly approaching, Otacon knew they both wanted to go to bed, but his adrenaline was too much to sleep it off, especially when the heel of Snake's foot made contact with his discarded glasses on the floor. Otacon's fists balled at his side, he inhaled heavily and narrowed his eyes at Snake. 

"Sit. Down." He fumed, pointing the offender to the beat up sofa that smelled more of cigarettes than anything else.

"Otacon--"

"Apologize." Tired blue eyes looked up, not quite remorseful or apologetic but planning a route to get out without repercussions. Typical.

"I'm sorry," mumbled under his breath, claiming his apology wasn't sincere was an understatement.

"Sorry for what?"

"For..." did he actually not know what he did wrong? Oh my God.

"For breaking my glasses, for pinning me down and putting a gun to my head when I was trying to go to bed, for treating me like a stranger or nonexistent or like I mean nothing to you." Otacon inhaled, feeling tears prick a little at his eyes. He couldn't see Snake's expression and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. "I'll leave in the morning. I can't work without my glasses, anyways. I'll stay low and we can keep in contact if you want." 

"I'm sorry." Snake kept his eyes cast downwards, licking his bottom lip. "I'm not good with people. Not used to it. You. Don't leave."

With a sigh, Otacon scratched the back of his neck. That was the answer he expected but not what he wanted to hear. Something a little more genuine than what he already pieced together, but it was a step, he supposed.

"Let's just... Sleep on this." Snake got down on the floor and picked up Otacon's glasses, turning them over a few times before wiping them off with the hem of his boxers and gingerly handing them over, to which Otacon accepted but tucked into the pocket of his sweats. "Don't point a gun at me, I almost fucking pissed myself," he grumbled, making his way around Snake and trudging to the bathroom. 

When he returned, the kitchen light was off, drowning the house in darkness but he roughly knew his way back to the couch. There was minimal furniture to begin with, and what he mainly had to worry about were the cables, but coming in from this angle should be fine.

His hand smacked against Snake's face as he tried to feel the couch, and he pulled his hand back and gasped.

"What are you doing here?" He rasped, trying to focus on the figure lying in his spot.

"I wanted to give you the bed." Is this how he's apologizing?

"You could've told me that."

"I just did." Groaning, Otacon shuffled back down the hallway, trying very hard to find his way to the bedroom, then to the bed. Once he was seated he kicked off the rest of his clothes, wrapped himself in the still-warm blankets Snake had and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.