Try, try again

Metal Gear Solid belongs to Konami and Hideo Kojima.

Submitted to the "Three Tries" SnakexOtacon challenge for the mgsslash community.

The first time he tried to tell Snake, he'd stammered and stuttered and used complex hand gestures that made up for lack of clarity with their enthusiasm. Snake had stared at him, no doubt his approximation of paying attention, and as soon as Otacon stopped moving his mouth, he returned to cleaning his weapons. Otacon slunk back to his computers, consoling himself with a cup of cold coffee and a day-old microwave burrito. All said, it wasn't much consolation.

The second time he tried to tell Snake, they'd both been thoroughly drunk. It was the anniversary of Shadow Moses, and the only time he let Snake smoke indoors. It was also the only time Snake drank. Although neither of them mentioned the day or shared any personal thoughts, they had an unspoken agreement. Snake would buy alcohol, Otacon would turn off his computers, and they would begin to drink as early as civilized society allowed. Usually after dinner, never before noon.

Somehow in the course of that evening, Hal found himself sprawled across an increasingly fuzzy Dave, who seemed to bob on the floor like a buoy in water and ripple just a little every time he laughed. He was still quite comfortable for a human pillow. So comfortable, in fact, that Hal felt compelled to try again.

This time, his words came out as sort of a verbal vomit, with too many nouns, or perhaps adjectives, but certainly not enough verbs. He couldn't get the hang of periods either. That Hal himself failed to make the connection between brain and mouth didn't help. And if Dave had tried to respond to the garble of words, Hal didn't get a chance to hear, because his attention became suddenly and uncompromisingly occupied with a vomiting of the more literal kind.

He woke up the next morning on the couch in a clean shirt with a blanket tossed over him. Snake offered him coffee, saying nothing. He accepted it, saying nothing. Neither of them ever mentioned the incident again, though Snake made Hal do that load of laundry. Hal didn't argue.

The third time, he didn't try to tell Snake. He was something of an expert on losing battles, after all, and knew one when he saw it. He wasn't much of a speaker, and really, Dave wasn't much of a listener. Even so, when Hal had leaned over that day and hesitantly placed a kiss on the other's prickly chin and hardened lips, Dave managed to understand all the same. Some things in life were just easy like that.