in the quiet loop. (solid snake x reader)

02 - behind you.

The chopper lurched skyward hard, fast, and gone. You collapsed onto the floor, gasping, vision swimming. The cuffs still rattled behind you, digging into your skin. Snake knelt beside you, calm as ever.

"Hold still," he slipped a thin pick from his belt, worked it into the cuffs, and popped them open.

You flexed your hands, your wrists screaming from tension, but you were free. The world outside was a blur of clouds and low dusk light, but inside the chopper, everything had gone still. The adrenaline was tapering off. You sat slumped against the cabin wall, blood-slicked fingers pressed tight to your upper arm.

Only now did you feel the stinging burn, the heat, and the ache that pulsed with your heartbeat. You peeled your palm back. Your fingers came away red.

"Shit."

Snake crossed the small space between you, wordlessly opening one of the side compartments. He rifled through a minimal med kit with field dressings, coagulant gel, a pressure bandage, tape, and the kind of painkiller you had to earn in battle. Hal said something over the intercom, but it was just noise now. Snake knelt beside you, one knee down, and one hand reaching toward you.

"...You good with me doing this?" He asked, voice low.

You gave a breathy half-laugh. "You just pulled me out of a black-site arrest. I think we're past the consent part."

He huffed, barely a smile, then gently tugged the fabric of your sleeve upward. You winced as the round grazed through the outer bicep. It wasn't deep, but enough to tear flesh and leave a bloody welt that pulsed hot with every heartbeat. Snake didn't say anything and just set the med kit open beside you, tore a small packet between his teeth, and soaked a gauze pad in saline.

"This is gonna hurt," he murmured, voice quieter now.

He dabbed at the wound with steady, gloved hands. It stung like hell. You bit down on a sharp breath but didn't flinch. His head was bent over your arm, brows drawn together in concentration, his jaw tight. The last of the orange sunlight caught in the edges of his hair, casting gold along the lines of his face.

He wrapped the bandage with quick, clean precision. Military efficient, but not rushed. The kind of care someone takes when they're ot sure how to say they're worried. His fingers pressed the edge of the wrap into place, then your eyes met his. His hands lingered at the edge of the wrap, just a little longer than needed.

The chopper shuddered slightly as it hit a patch of turbulence, but neither of you moved.

"Thanks," you swallowed.

He pulled his hands away slowly, sat back, and let the silence breathe. You could hear the low hum of Otacon adjusting course again. It would be another safehouse, another edge-of-the-map place where the law couldn't follow.

But Snake was still looking at you. You met his gaze, and for the first time, you didn't feel like a tool or an asset.

----

You followed Snake and Hal down a weedy path into a crumbling single-story structure, like it used to be a summer lakehouse. Now, it was just an empty drywall, covered windows, and dust-thick air. It was a military cot, a couch with a torn seam, and a generator humming outside.

The door slammed shut behind you, and the adrenaline was finally gone. Hal kicked a chair aside, dragging his bag across the floor.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Most of the places we land in aren't much. It's usually just one step ahead of the next manhunt."

You leaned against the wooden paneling. "I've stayed in worse."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "You sure about that?"