#kintsuggi

His hand was resting against his belt on the inside of his long duster; it was particularly cold, but he felt nothing at the moment. The loud barking of the dogs alarmed the owner of the small place, waiting by the door for it to open. He wasn’t disappointed, he indeed open the door and they both stood in silence for a few short moments. He looked good. The years have been kind on him, kinder than they did to him, despite what he had heard of Miller’s life. He knew that he had a daughter now, but he was living alone; it didn’t surprise him, he could never see men like them settling down. It did make him wonder how Miller even thought of doing such thing, and felt insulted in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. Despite the metal arm, his exposed, scarred body looked better than it did back in their late Diamond Dogs days, and for a moment he forgot the real purpose of this visit. Not that he had to say it out loud, Miller was a clever man; he knew the moment that they both talked about decades ago finally came.

And just like that, he was invited inside. There was wine offered, the fireplace was keeping them warm, he even removed the duster, remaining in that navy blue waistcoat, talking about every little thing that they have been doing in the last few years. The fiery passion that consumed Miller when talking about David and his achievements didn’t go unnoticed, making him flinch in annoyance. He succeeded in raising and training Solid Snake, bringing down John, but he wasn’t about to take it away from him, inform him that there was a plan to revive a dead man once more. If that was the only thing giving him any kind of satisfaction, he was going to let him have it. He was a dead man anyway, and they both knew it. He wasn’t going to fight, Ocelot was sure of that, but he didn’t know if this was going to make things easier or not.

Threats [starter sentences] pt 2 @kintsuggi

This was to be expected; he was well aware of how the Russians operated, exactly what kind of torture Miller went through during his capture. But what annoyed him the most, angered him even, was how the job wasn’t done by any professional, it was so bad and it caused more trauma to Miller than he would ever admit. He could see past his angry and prideful demeanor, and it took a while after his return to allow Ocelot to share his bed once more, much like they did in silent agreement prior to all the recent involvements and Venom’s appearance.

He’s a light sleeper himself, staying awake more often that he wanted to admit to observe Miller. This wasn’t the first time that he had woken up like this, but it was the first time that he called for him, actually requested his presence, despite being there. From what the medics had told him, his vision was not going to get any better soon, or even, ever. Sitting up from his little spot on the bed, he grabbed Kaz’s cheeks, holding them between his naked palms, pressing his forehead against his in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’m here, Miller. Calm down, it was just a bad dream.”

A bad dream that without a doubt felt real, that he felt the need to call for the Boss to comfort him. Ocelot wasn’t mad; John’s codename escaped his own lips more than often and loomed over his thoughts, even when being intimate and around Miller. It couldn’t be shaken off and he neither wished to do so, but for now, he genuinely did want to make sure that Miller was comforted. He wouldn’t allow himself to show such weakness and need to be reassured if this wasn’t serious, and Ocelot would have been considerate never to bring it up during their time awake unless Miller did.

“There’s nothing here to harm you, I’m here.”

They both knew how dangerous they could be towards each other, but those past nine years created that false sense of comfort that they both needed, considering John’s state. Venom was but a mere phantom, and his appearance could not shake off the bond they had developed, even if it was threatening to do so.

He didn’t exactly know how Miller agreed to his suggestion of helping him with shaving; it had been weeks since his return to the Motherbase, and his beard was only getting worse, so out of hand. Ocelot knew that recruits, especially the ones that had been there a long time, were discussing Miller’s appearance and how it changed so dramatically once he had returned from Afghanistan. 

Still, as he let the blade gently graze his exposed skin he couldn’t help but focus on his glassy eyes, shut now after the initial protest to remove them, Ocelot insisting that they got in the way. It was heartbreaking to see the fire in them gone, not that the rest of his appearance was missing the passion and fire that once resided in them. Everything else about him, his eyebrows furrowing, the way his voice sounded so cold, angry, the way he stumbled around was more than convincing that the man was filled with the same passion and lust for revenge he once had. 

“There”, he said as he pulled back, drying Miller’s cheeks and neck, his beard not gone, as he requested, but tamed down and trimmed significantly. He didn’t receive a reply from him, and looking at the discarded sunglasses, he picked them up, placing them at their rightful place, with Miller finally reacting and facing the mirror Ocelot held up in front of him. “Isn’t this much better? Was it so hard to ask for this?”, he asked him, what followed really catching him off guard.

Tired, full lips, slightly chapped, placed a kiss against his nose, on the perfect height level due to him bending down slightly with Miller sat on the chair, fighting the urge to visibly blink at the gesture. When Miller pulled away, he stared for a few moments, leaving the mirror behind and tracing his nose with a gloved hand.

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