Ocelot leaned against the railing of the walkway, looking down on Motherbase. More specifically, he was watch Big Boss.
DD barked, running around and between his master's legs. Snake held a ball aloft and issued commands which DD was too young and too excited to obey. Even from this distance, Ocelot could see the looseness of Snake's posture and hear the amusement in his voice.
These moments were becoming rarer. If lust for vengeance had filled Miller with scorching fury, Snake had frozen over. He returned from each mission more bitter. Emptier. By the time this was over, the vibrant man Ocelot had met at Rassvet might have turn to stone.
Snake tossed the tennis ball. DD yipped in delight and followed its bouncing path across the platform. He barely managed to hold the ball in his tiny muzzle. This time, dropped it at Snake's feet and sat at attention, just like Ocelot had taught him. Snake knelt down to reward him with cuddles.
"This is unexpected."
Ocelot jumped. Miller was leaning on his cane and grinning like a shark. On the metal walkways Miller's uneven gait was normally audible miles away. Had he really been that distracted?
"What are you on about, Miller?" He tolerated his colleague out of respect for the Boss, but just barely.
Miller tilted his head back. The setting sun reflected harshly off his aviators. It made him hard to read. "I just think your crush on the Boss is cute."
Ocelot's world slowed. He called upon every technique he'd learned through years of practiced lying, adding just the right notes of contempt and nonchalance to his response."That's disgusting," he said, curling his lip.
"No need to be so intolerant," Miller said, "Just letting you know he's taken."
"What?" There was no way he'd missed that. "Bullshit. By whom?"
There was that smile again. "...Isn't it obvious?"
Oh.
Oh.
Miller. Who else? The men had worked closely in MSF for years, and they'd never fallen out over something like...secret clones. Even now they were bound together by the same tragedy, fueled by a lust for revenge against a common foe. He'd seen the way Snake talked to Miller, the way he talked about him. Ocelot was the third wheel. The uninvited, estranged colleague shoving himself where he could never belong.
"I see," he choked out. Barely.
Miller regarded him inscrutably. Then, he let out an almost diabolical cackle. "Your face...I can't...! You really believed that? I hope you don't think I'm as gullible as you, 'cause that was the most pathetic lying you've ever done."
He was that easy to read? Blood rush to Ocelot's head and he turned to hide his reddening cheeks.
"Have you told—hey, come back."
Ocelot stormed away. Fleeing a conflict was humiliating, but hearing his feelings for Big Boss mocked was intolerable. He would have thrown anyone else off the walkway or beaten them to a pulp. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that attempting to do either of those things to Miller would upset Snake.
"Ocelot!" He could hear Miller limping after him, the crutch clanging rhythmically off the metal.
At least he could always outrun—or outwalk—Miller.
"Ocelot, wait!"
He didn't.
"Have you told him how you feel?!"
The last sentence was almost shouted, echoing. Two soldiers on the platform below looked up curiously. A guard on the walkway immediately above paused.
He stopped. It took an eternity for Miller to catch up.
"What do you want?" Ocelot hissed.
"An answer."
"To what?"
"My question. Have you told the Boss how you feel?"
Ocelot glowered. "Of course not."
"Why?"
He didn't dignify that with an answer.
"Afraid of rejection?"
"I've got a lunch to eat and a prisoner to torture. You have a point, or are you just fucking around?"
Miller lifted his single arm, still holding the cane. Ocelot backed up, expecting a blow, but Miller wrapped his arm around his shoulder.
"You probably don't know this, but I'm…" His grin faltered for a moment. "I was quite a heartbreaker. Been with women from all over. I consider it a public service to share my expertise."
"...Are you hitting on me?"
"I'm offering help."
He should have shoved Miller away, put his blatherings out of his head. But, despite every brain cell telling him this was a bad idea...he was tempted.
"What kind of 'help'?" Ocelot said carefully.
"You want the Boss to notice you, right? By the time we're done he'll be eating out of the palm of your hand."
Ocelot's fantasies about Snake had always been modest. In them Snake praises his skill, acknowledges his abilities, and relies on his expertise far more than in reality. They are goals Ocelot could, theoretically, achieve. Imagining more, even in flights of fancy, seemed foolhardy.
But Miller radiates confidence. Despite himself, Ocelot imagined. Snake kissing him. Sleeping with him.
Saying he loved him.
An ache of longing sharper stabbed through him. He wanted this. He wanted this so badly.
Ocelot shoved the feeling down, smothering it with logic and realism.
"You're trying to screw me over," he said.
"No thanks," replied Miller, "I'm straight."
Ocelot snorted.
"The Boss wants us to play nice," Miller continued,"Besides, that stupid lovesick smile on your face made me feel...nostalgic."
He should punch Miller in his smarmy face. Pretend this whole conversation never happened. The ache won't let him.
"...Alright."
"Great!" Miller slid his arm off Ocelot's shoulder—removing his scarf. Ocelot snatched for it, but Miller pulled it just out of reach.
"Hey!" Ocelot's neck tingled in the cool air. He felt oddly exposed.
"Consider this lesson one: always show more skin." Miller shoved the scarf into his pocket, then adjusted his grip on the cane. "See you later, cowboy."
And he was off. Ocelot stared dumbly at Miller's retreating back
What the hell did I get myself into?