Saturday a day early
A quick note first:
I made an Excel spreadsheet that takes the wordcounts of the fics you've written and does various things, like show them all in a pie chart with total words written, end length of multi-chapters and one shots over time, etc. Because this is what I do with my free time >_> Anyway I thought some of the writers here might like to try it; if nothing else there's a nice O_O wow moment upon realizing exactly how much you've written totatl (does require Excel2007). It's right here if you're interested. (will get them up around midnight; the library doesn't allow megauploads)
ANYWAY
Title: Next Saturday
Chapter: 8/?.........11:39
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dave/Hal
Spoilers: MGS1 and MGS2
Summery: There's only so far two men can bend. What happens when they break?
(links to past chapters can be found here)
To say things were tense after that would be the understatement of the decade. The air between them practically broke.
They evaded and avoided as best they could in the small apartment, and when they did pass each other they wouldn't even look at each other. They didn't talk about what happened; in fact, they didn't talk at all. The only time they traded words was when points of the upcoming mission had to be discussed, and then Hal would stammer and David would do little more than nod or shake his head.
Only when Hal would shuffle off to his nest of computers would Dave look. Look at his partner, his friend, his Hal but it all rang hollow in his head. He didn't deserve to be any of that. He didn't even deserve it before, and now...
The hacker moved most of his gear into the living room. He slept on the couch.
For the first few days after it happened, he limped.
It was a wonder the worn out pawn shop punching bag didn't split with the force of the self-directed anger that never left, never felt better, it just rolled with a slow boil. Time passed at that strange pace where it's both agonizingly slow and lightning fast. Nothing changed, for better or for worse.
~~*~~
When David paused for breath he could hear the leather bag creaking and straining in warning. With a sigh he rummaged in his bag for the roll of duct tape and patched up the protesting weak spot. When he got done he tossed the roll on his bed and looked at the clock.
11:39? I've been at this for three hours straight and Hal didn't break the door down telling me to take a...
He remembered why they weren't talking. What happened seven days ago. The soldier combed his fingers through his sweaty hair and crept towards the door. With silence and care he opened the door a crack and peered into the dimly lit living room. He could see the back of Hal's head; the hacker was on the couch with a computer in his lap, working on some code or info or maybe minesweeper. Right there, ten feet away, but it felt like miles.
This has to end. Dave thought, quietly closing the door. Something has to change or something's going to snap.
After some consideration to the fact that he'd been working up a sweat for three hours, he decided to take a quick shower before he approached the other man. While he was cleaning up he tried to plan out what he was going to say, but nothing seemed to stick. It was already proven that apologizing wasn't going to work, given that doing so the morning after brought out more anger in the programmer than David had seen in all the years he'd known the man. Every option he turned over was just as wrong as the last, and even after taking a longer shower than he intended he wasn't any closer to a game plan. It looked like he'd have to rely on instinct to take over once he was face to face with Hal, because that worked so well the last time, he thought sarcastically as he pulled on a shirt and jeans.
With the same caution and apprehension dedicated to the moments where he knew he was about to be ambushed by something more than your average Joe soldier, he approached his bedroom door. With a deep breath he turned the knob and stepped out into the main room.
"Hal, we need to-"
The couch was vacant and all the electronics powered down. With the beginnings of a bad feeling settling in his stomach he crossed the room to the kitchen, hoping that Hal was behind the bar fighting with the cabinets. He wasn't there, but David did find a note written in wide black marker taped to the fridge.
not kidnapped - just going out
back by morning
-O
The note was probably meant to quell the soldier's worries, but it didn't exactly help. Even though David knew that the programmer knew how to go places by himself and stay off the Patriot's radar, there were a lot of everyday dangers on the wrong side of the tracks. He could get mugged, someone could drug him...
Or he could be doing the same thing Dave had done for the past couple months of Saturdays.
~~*~~
There wasn't any clear path to follow once the soldier got to street level, but there really wasn't anything to do in that area of the city except go north to the row of sleazy bars and stores dealing in the sins of sex and alcohol. Dave headed in that direction, the quickest path memorized after two months of weekly trips. When he got close the short range beacon emitted by Hal's nanomachines showed up on his radar. He wasn't sure if he should be glad that he was getting close or worried that Hal was indeed in such a seedy place.
Since Hal's current batch of nanomachines were on their last legs and all the gaudy lighted signs put out interference, the beacon was thready and spread out, and to top it off it looked like Hal was moving. It proved impossible to track the signal while it was in motion, so Dave growled in frustration and settled against a brick wall, glaring daggers at anyone who passed, until the beacon slowed. Once the signal stopped bouncing he wandered through the alleys trying to find the vague center of the scattered blips, cursing himself and how damn long it was taking him to find the other man.
When he found the heart of it he stopped and stared despite the time he was wasting. Then he cursed some more, with considerable venom, at the neon sign in yellow and green casting its sick light onto his face.
Does he know that this is where I've been coming, or is this just proof that there's a higher power with a twisted sense of poetic justice? The soldier glared at the sign with great distaste. If Hal was in that place then he had to go in, but then one of his conquests might recognize him and cause a scene. Or try for another round, which would be even worse given the caliber of woman he'd been with.
The things I've done... what am I even going to say to him when I find him? he wondered for the millionth time. How could I have ever even dreamed that he should be with me?
His gaze fell on the dark alley beside the bar. Hal's signal was moving again, so he could be going home. Or he could just be rationalizing himself out of going into that place. In the end he decided to scope out the alley first, then force himself to go inside.
The soldier kept his head turned to the right so he didn't have to look at the wall where the last encounter took place. The alley was clean, giving what part of town they were in, only a few trash cans arranged under the iron stairs leading up to what he assumed as an apartment over the bar. The alley stopped in a dead end only fifteen feet or so from the street.
Nothing. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Time to man up and go into that-
"Tom?"
His cover name of the week, that voice... David spun and saw Hal standing at the mouth of the alley. The soldier crossed the distance on instinct and then stopped a few steps away, once again overcome by simply not knowing what to do. Hal remained motionless, looking that the other man as though he couldn't quite believe that they were both standing there.
"Ron," Dave said, the name a poor fit but the-mission-must-always-come-first, "I..." he trailed off in the face of uncertainty. He could never deserve being with Hal but his partner deserved the truth. Didn't he? And something had to move, to change, because they couldn't keep going like this. Not as working partners and certainly not as friends. For the first time since he let the other man in, David wasn't quite sure which one was more important.
"Look, Tom, it's not a good time," the programmer said, looking over the other man's shoulder as if plotting an escape into the dead end alley. "We should do this some other-"
"No," he interrupted without thinking, "we do this now. We've waited long enough to do this." Dave wasn't quite sure what 'this' was, but the rock was already rolling down the hill and he was just along for the ride. "I know you didn't want the last apology, but I am sorry. It shouldn't have happened like that." Hal's eyebrows rose. That detached humor laughed at the fact that he finally understood what it was like for the hacker when he couldn't make himself shut up about something. "Last Saturday was... fucked up, to say the least. And I just... I never wanted to hurt you. All I want..."
All the reasons why he didn't deserve his partner faded away when he looked into those expressive gray eyes and saw something that just had to be hope. He stepped forward and Hal met him halfway. He didn't look away from those eyes until they slowly closed. His hand came up without him willing it, to brush against his partner's cheek, and when they came together the other man parted his lips.
It took seconds for David's brain to process the off taste on Hal's tongue. Only a second more to stagger back a few steps and automatically wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Hal was beyond confused and hurt for a moment, but it didn't take long for comprehension to dawn. He bit his lip and looked away while the soldier stared at him in utter disbelief.
They might have stood like that forever, for neither one was willing to confirm what they both knew, if that deep, smooth voice hadn't called from the wrought iron balcony above.
"Hey Ron, you lost?" David turned his head towards the source and saw a good looking man stepping down the closer set of stairs. 'Ron' kept looking at the ground. "The store's right across the street; can't miss the giant pink 'condoms' sign..."
As he reached the bottom of the steps the stranger noticed Dave. He walked towards the other men slowly, taking in the way one was still looking at the ground in shame and one was staring at the other in shock.
"Uh, Ron, I miss something?" he said with concern, reaching out to touch Hal's shoulder.
Protective anger caught up with David long before his brain did. "Don't touch him."
The stranger dropped his hand to turn and scrutinize the soldier. "And you are...?"
"Ron, don't do this," Dave said, the hint of desperation creeping into his voice turning it into a plea.
"Oh," the stranger said, recognition appearing on his face along with a sneer, "you're the drunk who I've served shots to every weekend for the past couple months. The one who's been looking to bang a different dumb slut every time." He looked back at Hal, "This is the guy you're hung up on?"
Dave was never all that good at the finer points of romance when he was alone with his 'target,' let alone when there was an audience. "This doesn't concern you," he growled with obvious threat.
The man didn't budge, he just crossed his arms and leveled a glare right back at the soldier. "I'm not going anywhere. I might not be of the highest class but at least I've the decency to stick around when I'm needed."
"Look," Hal timidly interjected, "he's right, you don't have to get involved..."
"What, leave so you can just forgive everything and let him kiss you, even after everything he's done? Do you even know-"
"Yes,I know" the hacker said with a little more urgency, "just... let us talk about it, okay?"
The bartender shook his head. "Look, I don't meddle in the mistakes of my clientele, but when it comes down to something like this I won't step away. Do you even know how to care how much of a jerk he's been to you?"
David had almost burned through his admittedly short fuse. An incident with a civilian could lead to unhealthy police investigations, but it was getting harder to care.
"I want you to leave," he said threateningly, "he wants you to leave, so why don't you just-"
"Because he doesn't seem to even understand that he should be mad at you. You don't seem to get it either."
"I know he's got a damn right to be pissed! That doesn't mean he needs to sink down to my level, because he's better than-"
"I'm not."
David and the bartender both stopped and looked at the hacker.
"I'm not who you think I am," Hal said, still looking to the side. "You think I'm this person that... I might be naïve sometimes, I might act like a kid when I'm rambling about anime, but I'm not innocent." He turned his eyes back to the soldier, "I'm just not."
The soldier shook his head. "None of us is really-"
"No," Hal interrupted with the conviction usually reserved for his hopes of stopping Metal Gear. "This isn't some gray area of morality, this isn't original sin, this isn't..." he looked away, "this won't be the first one night stand I've had. Not by a long shot."
When it came to a cover, an act, Hal was good at playing the part. But when he wasn't being someone else, when he was just himself... he was a horrible liar. That's how David knew he wasn't lying.
"But..." the soldier said, trying to wrap his brain around it, "what do you...?"
"It was before I met you. When we met I was focused on work to the point of blocking out everything else... you know how I am." There was almost a laugh in those last words, but when he spoke again it was flat and matter-of-fact. "Before that, in college and right after, I was... reckless. Worse than you've been the past couple months. A lot worse."
Standing there in that alley, Dave suddenly remembered a conversation they'd had back when their working partnership was just starting to thaw into friendship. Hal admitted, with some embarrassment, that the superhero preconception had been hard to shake, even after he'd seen the proof that the soldier was indeed human. David hadn't really understood; things were black and white, and even in the grayscale case of Roy Campbell's betrayal he didn't struggle with it. From his standpoint the basis of human nature was deception and greed.
Except for one Otacon Emmerich. Dave thought of the hacker as something different ever since they started working together. Special. Innocent. Even when they found their first real lead to Big Shell and Hal told him about his step-mother... it never really touched the way the soldier saw his partner.
David looked at him, knowing what he'd already done and planned to do with this stranger, knowing that it wouldn't be the first time, knowing that Hal knew what he was getting himself into because he'd done it before.
Knowing that Hal stepped into that kiss. That they both wanted it. That his partner was still standing behind the stranger.
"Be... be careful," Dave said, defeated. Then he turned his back on the best thing that ever happened to him and walked away.
~~*~~
The week before was tense. The next was simply dead. When they discussed the mission it was without stammers and adverted eyes, they didn't put in the effortto avoid each other in the tiny apartment, they just were. It was a purely professional working relationship, something the soldier had often wished for in Philanthropy's early days. The thought of be careful what you wish for followed him around like a shadow. He might have chafed at the bonds of friendship initially, but now? He'd gotten used to it. To being around the eccentric nerd, to all those endearing quirks, to caring way too damn much. The professional void between them... it just didn't feel right.
However wrong it felt, David let it be. He didn't do anything about it because there was nothing left to do. That kiss in the alley proved that Hal felt something for him and the confrontation that followed proved that it wasn't enough. Dave couldn't exactly blame his partner. Everything that bartender said was true.
So he accepted it, and he tried to make the best of it, chanting that worn out phrase the mission comes first in his head every time he wished things were the way they were.
~~*~~
So fucking stupid.
The soldier glared at a random spot on the far wall with such intensity it's a wonder the room didn't burst into flames. He was sitting against the headboard of a plain pine bed; the last tenants took off with no warning so Philanthropy got the place cheap and furnished. It was all very Ikea: functional, non-obtrusive, and generally agreeable to the soldier. There was also the nice fact of not having to sleep on the floor the first week. But then, the state of the safehouse wasn't why David was trying to stare a hole through the wall.
Gauze was wrapped around his left arm, decorated with only a couple flecks of red as the bleeding had finally stopped. The nanomachines left in his bloodstream were sluggishly trying to repair the damage, but it was only a matter of hours before those flickered off like the rest. Not a good time to be between shipments (Mei Ling was tied up in Africa), as the codec was constantly lost to static and the radar flickered dangerously the entire mission. Of course, Snake was good enough to do simple information retrieval without all the shiny tech, and he had been doing well right up until...
He was crouched by the servers while Otacon's lock-whatever gadget went through the database by itself. In the download phase of such missions he always remained alert, listening carefully for anyone walking by so he'd be ready to spring into action if he was discovered. In those waiting game situations he never had a problem keeping his focus on the task at hand. If a concern floated into his head, then he'd squash it. Worrying about things he couldn't do anything about would only get him killed and he knew that.
So what was he doing when the guard stuck his head in the room and fired off a shot before he could react? He was thinking about watching from the window as the bartender brought Hal home and they hugged goodbye. How Hal limped the next day. The bruise on his cheek. And so he'd gotten out with the intel, but not without raising the alarms and doubtlessly making the next mission or two much more difficult than they needed to be. Not to mention the slug buried in his bicep that shouldn't be there.
So god damn fucking stupid.
The mission must always come first except it didn't this time around. Was he going to slip up again? What was it going to cost him next time? Why couldn't he just move on?
He rubbed his eyes, tired of the whole thing. Leave it to a scrawny nerd, complete with glasses and a disproportionate obsession with big eyed cartoons, to break down all my years of training in social avoidance. Only he could make me care like this. He slumped down and was just considering trying to get some sleep when the door creaked open.
"Um... Snake?"
He frowned, unsure as to why his partner was standing there in the doorway. It wasn't as though the injury warranted constant checks; even when they were still talking Hal would have left him alone at that point.
"Can I..." Hal's voice was taking on that old hesitant tone and Dave wasn't sure how he felt about that. "Can I come in?"
The soldier nodded, wondering why it suddenly felt like the Twilight Zone.
The hacker took a few steps forward, stopping by the foot of the bed to wring his hands. "It's just..." he paused as if trying to find the right words. "It's just that..."
The floodgates opened.
"It's just that I hate how you were talking about going down to your level, and how you think that two weeks ago was all your fault when I'm just as guilty, and then that thing out in the streets and that kiss and I just don't know what to do with all this-"
"Hal," the soldier interrupted, knowing that his partner could carry on for an hour and never get to the point. The programmer's mouth snapped shut. "Hal. just... breathe and tell me what you're trying to say."
Hal took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "What I'm trying to say?" He looked back at the other man. "What I'm trying to say is..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*runs*