Work Text:
There you are. Target acquired.
It's been a tough route already, chicken, creeping my way through the house, checking every floorboard before stepping across on tippy-toes. You've got eyes in the back of your head and after this long, you're wise to the ways of little old me. I've had to get smarter, subtler, sneakier.
Subtle isn't as fun, but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for your sake.
"Kssssh, Colonel, I'm in."
Plus it means that I get to pretend I'm Solid Snake, and that man has impeccable taste in bodysuits.
Ooh... I wonder if I can make stealth camo? I could totally make stealth camo! Nice work chicken, you're a genius!
Wait, getting distracted, getting distracted. And not in a good way.
I peep around the doorframe, see you standing out there in the combat zone, sipping from a container of lethal chemicals. Coffee. Black. Unsweetened. Gross.
Such a travesty should not be allowed to stand, chicken dearest, but I have bigger fish to fry than your reprehensibly revolting taste in drinks. We can work on it, chicken; I'll get you to come around sooner or later. You came around on the dog.
I dart forward, commando style, stealthy as a bat in a ghillie suit, into the kitchen proper. I, dearest chicken, am a ninj-
Clink.
I freeze. Speak of the devil... there's the dog right now.
No, no, no, no! You're a delight, my handsome hound, but you're going to blow my cover!
[CAUTION 99:99]
"Nuke! Ssh! Sssh! Good boy!"
The dog pants at me, staring with his big dopey, excruciatingly cute eyes. Augh! My only weakness!
No, no, must... remain... strong...
"Nuke? You okay boy?"
Salvation! Nuke turns and goes trotting back towards you, leaving me crouched under the kitchen counter, heart yammering like a drunken opera singer.
I've got to admit chicken, it's very very tempting to peek out, see the doubtlessly delectable sight that is you doting on our canine companion. Because I know you chicken, and whilst you might put on the tough act in public and around the press, but you really are an absolutely mushy loser at heart.
Of course, that's fine. You have a winner around to help make you look good.
Regardless of how, uh, every time we've gone head to head, you've beaten me- look shut up you have emotions about people and things so that makes me the winner okay? Okay.
Time for phase two of the Magnificent Master Scheme.
Quiet as a mouse in padded shoes, I peek up from behind the counter. Hm... you're facing away, but I need you looking away.
I palm the detonator and then, with a hop skip bump of anticipation in my chest, hit the button.
It's not even really fair to call it a bomb. It's really not a bomb. More of a controlled explosion- yes I can do those because there's a difference between being incapable and choosing not to.
ANYWAY.
Boom.
"Slugger! What the hell was that?"
In a flash, I leap out from cover, crossing the distance between us in an instant-
Thumping into your back, arms tightly locking around your waist, head tucked just over your shoulder.
Operation Hug Gallant Girlfriend... success!
"Prodigal?"
I tuck my chin harder against your shoulder. "Mmhm?"
"Did you just set off an explosion so you could hug me?"
"...Maybe."
"I love you, you weirdo."