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Ocelot was shaking dirty slush off his boots by the diner's entrance when Kaz finally saw him. He'd caught Kaz in the middle of ordering something between a late dinner and a very early breakfast before their red eye flight out of the States and back to Mother Base, and the corner of Kaz's mouth quirked up as their eyes met. He turned back to the waitress as Ocelot picked his way through the sparsely occupied array of tables towards Kaz's booth.
"--eggs fried, and a side of hash browns," Kaz said. He glanced at Ocelot, and added, "Oh, and two coffees. Thanks."
"You got it," the waitress said. "Should be right out."
She gave Ocelot a once over as he traded places with her by the table, and offered him a soft smile. Ocelot gave her a small nod in return, and waited for her to leave before he raised an eyebrow at Kaz and slid into the booth.
"You don't like fried eggs," he said as a greeting.
"I don't," Kaz agreed. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes so he didn’t have to look at Ocelot, mildly embarrassed. "I ordered for you, hope you don't mind."
"How'd you know what to get?" Ocelot asked. He reached forwards and slid the newspaper Kaz had been reading while he waited over to his side of the table.
"Lucky guess," Kaz said, muffled through his cigarette. He let the lie sit between them for a bit, lit his cigarette, and squinted at his partner as he flipped through the paper.
Kaz didn't have to guess much with Ocelot anymore. He didn't like it, but he supposed it couldn't be helped, what with their working relationship going on seven years and change. He'd long since lost count of the number of bar and diner and convenience store motel room dinners they'd shared throughout it, and Ocelot's little preferences stuck with him. He could pawn off his fried eggs and carrots and get Ocelot's cucumbers and tomatoes in return. Kaz remembered Ocelot's preferred radio stations in cities they frequented, how he took his coffee with one sugar, wrote exclusively in blue pen when he could, and shivered when Kaz bit the faint round scar on his left collarbone. He didn't even have to try all that hard to bring these facts to mind, they just floated to the surface as he watched Ocelot read. Kaz flicked his lighter open and shut and pretended the weird feeling in his stomach was just hunger. They'd been working together too long, he decided.
Ocelot shook him out of his train of thought when he reached down to pull one of his own cigarettes out of his coat pocket. Kaz knew the sight of those well enough to make a face at it; he never understood why Ocelot chose to smoke clove cigarettes of all things.
"Don't smoke that next to me," Kaz groaned. "I don't wanna smell like incense all night."
"Are you going to share one of yours?" Ocelot asked as he rooted around in his other pocket for his lighter. "No."
"No— Hm. " Kaz growled when Ocelot predicted his reaction fast enough that they spoke in unison. To prove he wasn't as stingy with his cigarettes as Ocelot seemed to think he was, Kaz shook another one of his out and rolled it across the table to him. A new one, even, not the half smoked one he would’ve handed over otherwise.
Ocelot laughed a bit, and caught it before it tipped over the edge of the table. He put his own cigarette back where it came from with a small smile. It stayed on his face as he lit up and sank back into the vinyl cushions, then haphazardly swept his hair back from his face. He needed a haircut and a shave, but then again, so did Kaz. Although, Ocelot looked much worse tonight than he did when Kaz saw him last. His skin looked ashen under the fluorescent lights, made worse with his gray stubble and dark circles. The blonde was long gone from his hair, which had faded almost too fast for Kaz to notice the change, and the lines on his face seemed to grow deeper every day. His hands shook minutely as he slipped his lighter back into his pocket. Another unfortunate side effect of working with the man for too long was the concern that started to gnaw at Kaz's chest when he saw Ocelot like this.
"When's the last time you slept?" Kaz asked, and Ocelot shrugged. Kaz frowned. "Ocelot."
"I'll sleep on the plane," Ocelot said with a note of condescension in his voice. He flipped the paper open to the crosswords with an aggressive rustle right as the waitress returned with their coffee. They thanked her quietly, and sat in tense silence as Kaz smoked and Ocelot scratched out answers with the half dead blue ballpoint he kept in his coat.
Kaz finished his cigarette and ground it out into the ashtray until the butt almost disappeared into the gray. He decided against lighting another one, and stared out the windows by the door. The snow had stopped for the night. Headlights flashed by the parking lot every so often, and airplanes took off in regular succession further in the distance, their roar drowning out the tinny top 40 songs that played over the diner's intercom.
They'd tied up their last mission fairly well and without much violence on Kaz's part— turns out having a home address was a leg up in negotiations for surplus arms shipments, and he'd shaken the slick old shareholder's hand with a genuine smile. Meanwhile, Ocelot got stuck on clean up duty after their attempted bribery of the old man's PA had gone closer to the way of interrogation. It wasn’t a big deal besides the mess, because the assistant was known for disappearing on benders every so often. He just wouldn't come back from this one. After, they decided it was best to lay low for the rest of the week and had parted ways for a couple days.
Kaz was on the verge of asking Ocelot another ill advised question about why he'd stayed up so long after taking care of that when their food came: steak and eggs (scrambled), french toast, sausage, eggs (fried), and a side of hash browns for the both of them. The waitress even left the coffee urn at the table.
Ocelot gave Kaz a wry look over their meal. "French toast?"
"Look, if you won't eat it, I will," Kaz said as he split the hash browns. "Not the eggs, though."
Ocelot took a long final drag of his gifted cigarette, stubbed it out, and pushed his crossword aside. He scooped his half of the hash browns onto the plate with the sausage and eggs, and started to eat.
"And you're welcome," Kaz said over his coffee with a bland smile.
"Thanks," Ocelot replied. He watched Kaz with a thoughtful expression while he ate.
Kaz kept his attention focused on his own meal, but noticed with a smug bit of pride how fast Ocelot scarfed down his eggs. The earlier tension eased, and they sat in comfortable quiet. Airplanes roared, dishes clattered, and someone laughed at a table near the window.
"Did you do something?" Ocelot asked suddenly, halfway through his french toast. His eyes were bloodshot, washed out and pale. Kaz missed the bit of steak he was about to spear and his fork screeched across his plate.
"No?" Kaz frantically racked his brain and came up short.
"Why are you buying me dinner, then?" Ocelot said. His expression was neutral in a careful way, and so was his tone.
"It's just dinner, Ocelot," Kaz said. He sawed at his piece of steak with his knife to avoid Ocelot's stare. "And it's a long flight, I don't wanna subsist on airplane peanuts until we go— until we get back."
"Go?" Ocelot latched onto his lapse in wording much too quickly for Kaz’s liking.
"Go home," Kaz said. It just seemed like the natural thing to call Mother Base, but he didn't know why he felt so embarrassed to say it out loud. He quickly pushed the feeling aside and gestured at Ocelot with his knife. Best to keep him focused on dinner. "You walk in here looking like shit, what else am I supposed to do? Make you watch while I eat? Come on."
Ocelot tapped his fork against his mouth and frowned. "I don't look that bad."
"You look like you haven't slept in three days," Kaz said sharply. "And I don't— I don't care why, I just don't want you to keel over on me."
Ocelot took a careful sip of his coffee with one sugar.
"And I'm sorry I made you clean up while I closed the deal." Kaz didn't want to say it because he wasn't, but his shoulders were still tense under Ocelot's gray stare.
"Is that all?"
" Yes, " Kaz snapped. He could always trust Ocelot to shake something loose in him, and anger was usually the first thing to tumble out. "Unless there's something you think I missed, hurry up and finish your stupid toast."
Ocelot hummed like there was in fact something missing, but cut up the rest of his meal to eat in silence. He had a strange look on his face, something like satisfaction, but with a pinched feeling about his eyes. Once he was done, he quietly stacked his plates and picked his pen back up to finish the crossword.
Kaz frowned at him as he finished off the last of his eggs and poured himself some more coffee for a moment to think. His anger was gone as quick as it came, and he didn't believe Ocelot was mad at him, either. Kaz mostly hoped Ocelot was just fucking around because they had about four more hours before their flight, and he still had to pack. His earlier concern about Ocelot's lack of sleep bit at him, but something sharper joined in to twist around his heart as he ran their conversation back over in his head. When dinner stopped being just dinner was such a ridiculous question to ask himself, but he couldn't stop repeating it. Why was he so confident in his order? And when did getting back to base become going home? As Kaz scraped up bits of hash brown, he found he couldn't pretend he was just hungry anymore.
A few minutes later, he stacked up his own empty plates, sat back with his coffee, and watched Ocelot, who was so focused on his task that he didn't even look up when the waitress came to clear their plates and leave the check. Instead, he frowned at the paper and scribbled over some of his answers. Strange, for a Tuesday puzzle. Kaz counted out some cash with one eye on him. He took in the crease between Ocelot's eyebrows, his crows' feet, the flyaway hairs that fell into his face. Kaz found with some surprise didn't have it in him to pretend to be mad about being left to pay that night, though his hands itched for something to do in the silence. He drummed his fingers on the table and fiddled with the cigarette box in his pocket. He didn't really feel like smoking another one. Ocelot glanced up at him as he scribbled in his last few letters.
"You ready?"
Kaz nodded. "You want some more coffee, first?"
Ocelot shook his head. "Better not. I want to get home, too."
They shuffled out of the booth and Kaz stared hard at Ocelot's back as they left. He still felt weird about the slip-up of calling their new base home, and as they made their way down the dark sidewalk back to the motel, he picked at the wording like a scab. It wasn't wrong in any sense, and Ocelot had every right to call it home, too. Kaz didn't blame Ocelot for settling into Mother Base so well; he wouldn't want to be stuck in Soviet-occupied Afghanistan either. In fact, they'd both settled into the fixer-upper oil rig just fine, with their adjacent desks in the comms room and private offices across the hall. Their private quarters weren't far apart, either. Maybe, Kaz told himself, they weren't far enough apart.
Ocelot took out one of his own cigarettes as they came upon the motel parking lot, and Kaz was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice until he smelled it. He sighed.
"Finish that out here," Kaz said. "I'll head up first. You know the room, right?"
"Of course." Ocelot blew out a plume of smoke and gave him a once over. He glanced around the empty road and up into the mostly darkened motel windows, then winked at Kaz and made his way over to an empty phone booth, as if he had someone to call.
Kaz turned and headed up to his room. The tension in his chest didn't ease even as he made distance between them. He swore he could still smell the burning clove and tobacco as he climbed the stairs. The cloying sweetness of it ate away at Kaz, distracting him as he fought with the sticky room key. It was like a thin veil that shrouded the rest of his senses, and it layered on thicker whenever Ocelot had one near him. Seven years of them, he thought as he finally got the door open. He flicked the light on and grimaced at the dim bulbs in the short foyer. Seven years, and the space between them had only ever grown smaller. If they got any closer, Kaz worried there wouldn't be enough room between them for anyone else.
He deadbolted the door behind him and did a cursory sweep of the room. Ocelot would've snapped at him for not being thorough, but he was preoccupied. Kaz made his way over to the window and flicked the curtain back for a second to look down at the man by the phone booth. Ocelot looked back up at him, but Kaz swept away from the window before he could see him wave. He felt antsy, and paced around the room to aimlessly toss his clothes towards his open suitcase.
As he picked up one of the shirts that missed, a dark and familiar thought crossed his mind. If it ended up just the two of them, would that be fine?
Kaz carefully folded the shirt as the thought festered. It came to him more often these days, and every time it did, he found that he could picture that future with increasing clarity and stability. However, every time he came to the same conclusion, a little knot of guilt snaked tighter and tighter in his chest at just how much he wanted it. He picked up and folded another shirt and tried his best to move on from the image of himself and Ocelot at the helm of what once was someone else's dream, rebuilt and molded into something of their own. Kaz shut the lid on his suitcase and stalked away from the table.
He was in the bathroom putting away his toiletries when Ocelot knocked. It was a familiar rhythm they'd decided on a year or so ago, but still, Kaz checked the peephole before he let him in.
Ocelot waltzed in like he owned the place, and surveyed the dim little room while Kaz locked the door again. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, and watched Kaz with a small smile.
“What?” Kaz asked, defensive.
"You look like you saw a ghost," Ocelot said. He gave Kaz another once over as he did in the parking lot, only now he let his gaze linger. He pushed up off the wall and crowded Kaz against the bathroom door.
"I'm just tired," Kaz said. He pressed his back against the wall and let Ocelot close in. Ocelot hummed and slid his hands up to rest on Kaz's shoulders. Up close, Kaz could map out the trail of freckles that only appeared on Ocelot's cheeks and nose when he got out somewhere overcast enough to give his latest sunburn the chance to fade away. "I don't know how you're not."
"Oh, I am," Ocelot finally admitted. He reached up and cupped Kaz's jaw. Ocelot gave him an odd look then, a soft little smile only in the lines around his eyes. They were the flat gray-green of the snow laden cloudy days they'd had this past week, still bloodshot, still exhausted. Kaz felt the familiar heat of his hands on either side of his face through the leather. Ocelot gently rubbed at the spot on the side of his nose where his sunglasses usually rested, and a sharp electric feeling fizzled up though his chest.
"What's up with you tonight?" Kaz asked, and Ocelot kissed him.
Caught off guard, Kaz let him. He should have seen it coming, but that’s what he got for getting so wrapped up in his own feelings. Kaz twisted his hands in Ocelot's coat and pulled him closer, opened his mouth and tasted syrup and the sickly sweet smoke he hated. This, he knew how to deal with.
Ocelot tangled one hand in his hair and let Kaz shuffle him back towards the bed. It was easy enough to turn his brain off for this, to push Ocelot down and get between his legs, box his head in and forget everything about how the man beneath him made him feel. Kaz focued on his tongue, his stubble, his hot hands working down his chest; kissed him hard and left him gasping, bit his jaw, his ear, his neck. For a brief second as Kaz wrenched away Ocelot's scarf, he allowed himself a thought— if he was good enough, maybe Ocelot would take it and pass out on his own. He moved further down, ran his tongue over that perfect round brand on his collarbone and made him shiver. Kaz had the abrupt and desperate urge to bite him and leave a bruise around that scar, cover one mark with another. He was about to do it, lips pressed to skin, until he heard and felt Ocelot yawn.
He pulled back and gave Ocelot an incredulous look.
"Really?"
"What?" Ocelot blinked back up at Kaz and had the audacity to look offended, with his mouth wet and shirt half open.
"Ocelot, you…" Kaz muttered. His eyes landed on the burn scar, pale skin against pale skin. Suddenly, the heat was overwhelming. Kaz pulled away from Ocelot and the grasping hands on his nape and hip, and pulled his rucked up sweater back into place as he stood. "I need to keep packing."
"Miller," Ocelot started, but had to stifle another yawn before he could get anywhere. He sighed and flopped back down. "Miller..."
Kaz ignored him, taking his time reorganizing all his clothes and lining them up to fit in his suitcase. He felt like he'd just eaten a sour candy with the way his face tingled with unease and desire, buzzing around his jaw in the same spot Ocelot liked to set hands. He couldn't explain why he'd bolted so suddenly, but for his earlier thoughts coming back to pick at him. It got to be too much, his mark and his mark, and the limited space between them closing. Who did he think he was? Kaz folded his socks over and over, just to look busy. Everything was accounted for except the clothes he was wearing and the items in his pockets. He flipped through his fake passport again to make sure everything was in order.
"Kaz," Ocelot tried again. "Are you gonna make this up to me when we get home?"
Kaz fumbled his passport and slammed his hands down onto the table to stop it from falling.
"Don't say it like that," he hissed. His heart pounded. The thought of looking back at Ocelot laid out on the bed, staring at him with those tired eyes scared him so much he couldn't move. He cleared his throat. "But yeah, fine. Fine. If that's what you want."
“What do you want?" Ocelot asked after a long moment. His voice was low.
Kaz bent over his suitcase. The dingy wallpaper in front of him seemed to curve up and over his head as he considered the question. His mind kept tripping forwards into the future and he stared down at his shirts and socks and hair products with static in his mouth.
"Right now? I want you to get some rest," Kaz whispered, several moments later. He didn't care if Ocelot heard him, and he'd rather he didn't. "And I want to get back to base."
"Back to base, hm?" Kaz heard Ocelot shift on the bed. The long pause of his deep breath felt like years. "Yeah, alright. Come here."
Kaz turned. Ocelot beckoned him over with an exacting look that made him feel sick.
"I know you don't need to fold your socks again," Ocelot said. It was as close to an apology as he was going to give. "Turn on the radio or something and come here."
Kaz walked over and sank down onto the mattress. He barely looked at Ocelot as he reached over and switched on the radio on the nightstand. He left it on whatever station the last person to occupy this room wanted it to be and stared over at the closed curtains. Ocelot pressed against his hip and didn't say anything. It was the nicest thing he'd done all night. For lack of anything better to do and to distract from the warmth of Ocelot's body, Kaz lit a cigarette. He sat there and let it burn down a bit before he brought it to his mouth.
"Hey," Kaz said a minute later to no response. He glanced down to find Ocelot laying against him, eyes closed, breathing even. Kaz stared at him while his cigarette wasted away. He couldn't tell if Ocelot had actually fallen asleep, or if he was just faking it for his sake, and he didn't know which was worse. He took a long, slow drag.
"Ocelot," he said, his voice hushed. If Ocelot was asleep, he didn't need to hear this. And if he wasnt? Kaz twisted his cigarette between his fingers. He already knew. Kaz stood and finished his cigarette by the window.