in the quiet loop. (solid snake x reader)

10 - don't die on me.

"You've always been the loud one," he murmured with a faint breath of a smile. "The one who sang when everything was quiet. Who never stopped poking fun at me, even when I threatened to throw you out of the chopper."

Otacon glanced back through the mirror but said nothing.

"I wasn't supposed to care. I've been through too much, lost too many people. You know that," Snake's voice cracked ever so slightly, rare and raw. "But you got to me. You got to me, and I don't know how you did it."

He drew you closer, pressing a firm, steady kiss to your forehead as his lips lingered longer than he intended, not caring who saw.

"Don't die on me," he whispered. "You hear me? Don't you dare die on me."

----

A sharp gasp tore from your lungs as you shot upright, heart racing as the cold sheen of sweat clung to your skin. Your chest heaved, your breath ragged. Everything around you was dim walls, the flicker of a lamp in the corner, and the stiff cotton sheets that looked unfamiliar.

You could still feel the echo of sedation in your veins, the phantom sting of cold electrodes across your temples. You blinked rapidly, chest tightening.

Not again. Please, not again.

"Hey," a voice cut through. "It's okay. You're safe."

You turned sharply toward the voice, vision still adjusting. Then you saw Snake, sitting by the bed. His hair fell messily over his eyes, strands curling slightly from the sweat and heat. He looked like hell with dark circles under his eyes, stubble thick around his jaw, and a posture slouched like he hadn't left that chair in hours, maybe days. But there was no mistaking the raw relief on his face as your gaze met his.

"...You're awake," he breathed, like he was convincing himself. "Finally."

Your lips parted, but no sound came. You couldn't form words yet. Your hand trembled as it rose slightly off the bed, reaching out. He met you halfway, curling his fingers around yours, firm and grounding. You felt the warmth of his skin, the calluses of a soldier's life.

"I thought we lost you," he said, voice rough. "But you're here. You're okay."

You opened your mouth again, voice cracking. "Where...?"

"Safehouse. We're off-grid," he answered quickly. "Otacon's working on wiping any trace of our location. Raiden's upstairs. You're safe."

Your chest slowly stopped heaving. Snake exhaled through his nose, then leaned in. Closer. His hand never let go of yours.

"You scared the hell out of me," he murmured.

Before you could reply and process how his presence was the only thing tethering you to the present, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. It wasn't rushed or reflexive. He lingered there, warm lips against your skin, breathing you in like he needed to remind himself you were alive.

When he pulled back, his forehead still rested against yours.

"You're safe now," he whispered again. "I've got you."

The silence that followed was soft and fragile, but no longer frightening. Snake remained by your side, your fingers still gently laced with his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles with care, like you were made of glass and he didn't want to risk shattering what little peace you had.

You sank slowly back into the mattress, the pillow now warm against your back. The panic had faded into something slower. You could feel your own heartbeat again, not just the echo of fear, but your actual heartbeat.

Snake reached toward the nightstand and picked up a metal canteen. He unscrewed the cap, held it out, then you took. The water was cool, enough to hydrate yourself. He leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning your face like he was still trying to determine if this was real.

"What happened to Arsenal...?" you asked, voice faint. "Everything... all of it."

Snake shifted slightly. For a moment, his expression didn't change, but his eyes clouded over, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Arsenal Gear broke surface under the Manhattan Bridge and crashed straight into Federal Hall," Snake took in a breath, then continued. "Solidus is gone. Raiden took him down."

You stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, trying to imagine the chaos. The weight of it all. The war beneath the world, invisible to the people walking the streets above.

"And the Patriots?" you asked.

Snake let out a breath, a tired, better exhale. "You were under deep sedation. I had to... unplug everything. Get you out of that place fast. We didn't know what state you'd wake up in." He paused before continuing. "But they're still out there. We hit a wall again. The data's corrupted, scattered. But Otacon found some fragments."

"Fragments?" you raised an eyebrow.

He looked at you again. "One of those pieces led us to you."

Your throat tightened. You turned your head slowly toward him, and in the faint glow of the bedside lamp, you saw the raw truth in his eyes.

"I saw some of it," you murmured. "While I was under. I think... they were watching my memories. Like footage."

He didn't speak at first. Just reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. "I saw them too," he said quietly.

You stiffened slightly. But he didn't look away. If anything, he leaned a little closer.

"I didn't know you thought of me like that."

You tried to reply, but he gently placed two fingers beneath your chin, just enough to tilt your face toward his.

"I wish I'd known sooner," he added, almost a whisper. "Or maybe I always did. I just didn't let myself believe it."

You let your hand rest against his, curling around his wrist. His skin was rough, warm, familiar.

"I wanted to tell you," you said, barely audible. "I just... thought I'd have time."

Snake gave the faintest smile. "So did I."

Then he leaned in again, his forehead resting lightly against yours like a quiet promise. One that was wordless but unshakable.