The Internet will rot your brain

Metal Gear Solid belongs to Konami and Hideo Kojima


Snake pressed Hal against the bed, but paused to assess the other before he dipped down and brought their mouths together. In the course of the evening Otacon had already lost his shirt, and it lay crumpled and forgotten somewhere on the floor as their bodies moved in unison. Tracing his fingers with silent demand toward Hal's jeans, Snake elicited a moan and a quiet shudder. Even as Otacon helped him with the zipper, Snake brushed his lips along the younger man's jaw then shifted to run gentle teeth across his slender throat.

"Mmm, Dave..." Hal's hands pressed against Snake's back, and he arched his neck. "Oh...oh..." Otacon tangled his fingers into Snake's hair and began to pull him closer but abruptly froze, eyes flying open with a look of alarm. "Oh crap!"

He sat up fast enough that his head banged into Snake's nose, and the older man rolled off him with an unintelligible expletive. As Snake muttered something obscene, Otacon did a quick check of his watch that only confirmed his fears. Although he ran a hand through his hair, it did little to straighten the unruly strands, and Hal gave up with a sigh. In a quick motion he slipped off the bed and rose to his feet while Snake positioned himself on the edge of the mattress, still rubbing his injured nose. Once Hal had zipped up his pants, he spared his partner a preoccupied look of sympathy.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Dave. I can't believe it slipped my mind! Mei Ling asked me to meet her online about," another glance at his watch, "fifteen minutes ago."

Snake dropped his hand so he could give the other a proper glare that the redness of his nose somewhat marred. "And the Internet is going somewhere, so it can't wait?"

Otacon tried to nod and shake his head at the same time but only succeeded in looking neurotic. "Yes, I mean no. It's just, we're both really busy so our schedules always conflict, and we arranged this meeting almost three weeks ago." Snake's silence spoke volumes and Hal hastily added, "I can't just skip out on her!"

Skepticism clearly visible in his eyes, Snake did his best to appear understanding but failed. "What the hell are you meeting about anyway?"

A sheepish grin twisted Hal's mouth and he lowered his eyes. Rather than answer, he evaded the question. "You know, it's a meeting. We're going to meet online. To talk about stuff."

"I know what a 'meeting' is, " Snake growled. "I just don't understand what's so damn important that it can't wait for..."

Guilt flushed Otacon's face, and Snake recognized the look at once; it was that same expression his huskies wore when they ate out of the garbage or piddled on the floor. Although Snake suspected Otacon of neither, his mind quickly assessed the other possibilities and understanding came to him like a kick in the groin. A feeling of horror mingled with disbelief forced his jaw to drop open.

After a few seconds of gaping, he managed in a flat voice, "You've got to be kidding me."

Hal looked down at Snake and cajoled, "But Dave, I promised Mei Ling –"

"I can't believe it," Snake shook his head in quiet shock.

"And it's the only time this month we can discuss –"

"Oh Christ." Although Snake pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, it did little to ease his sudden headache.

"And we're co-writing the fic so I really need to give her some feedback –"

"No, stop right there!" Snake waved his hands in defeat but Otacon pushed on.

"And we just got to the part where Optimus Prime –"

In an instant Snake was on his feet and glaring down at Otacon with a look torn between annoyance and desperation. His hands shot out and he grabbed his partner by the shoulders. Giving him a hard shake, Snake hissed through gritted teeth, "I don't care. I don't fucking care! Just go! Go talk to Mei Ling about cartoons before I fully grasp the situation and kill myself."

Or you, Snake added mentally but didn't dare say it out loud. Although usually mild-mannered and non-threatening, Otacon became tetchy about the strangest things.

The younger man hesitated for only an instant before giving Snake an apologetic half-smile. Kissing him on the cheek, he murmured, "We'll be done in a few hours."

Snake merely grunted. A number of responses floated through his mind, but Otacon still didn't believe Snake capable of humor and so would most likely miss the sarcasm. Biting his tongue, he waited for the other to pad out of the room and the door to half-close with its soft creak.

With Hal gone, Snake took the opportunity to rummage through the bottom drawer of their dresser. Feeling his way through underwear, socks and magazine clips, Snake at last pulled out a crumbled pack of cigarettes. Once he selected a reasonably intact one, he tapped it on the pack and dangled it from his lips.

As Snake poked around the room in search of a lighter, Otacon's voice called through the door, "Dave, please don't smoke inside."

"'m not smoking," he automatically mumbled around his cigarette, trying his best to suppress any guilt. At the moment he felt more irritable than penitent, and he paused to glare through the door before finding the lighter next to his tool kit and guns. If Hal was so busy with his goddamn Pokemon, he could suck it up this once and let Snake have his goddamn smoke.

The lighter, some cheap plastic thing he picked up at a gas station, had almost no fluid left but after a few tries, he successfully lit the tip of his cigarette and took a long drag. The hectic clatter of typing drifted in from Hal's work area, and Snake ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled.

Already the nicotine had its soothing effect on his nerves, and he again placed the cigarette between his lips. The murderous rage – directed at Hal, Mei Ling and the Internet in general – at last began to fade.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he muttered to no one in particular, "Fanfic over sex? That's just sick."


Notes:
So the other, probably more likely, option was Hal leaving for World of Warcraft, but I don't actually play and then I couldn't bring in Transformers, so where's the fun in that?