Sunglasses and Cigars {BbKaz Oneshots}

Him.

((I actually wrote this a while back and forgot about it. I know it's been forever since I've updated this but hey, it's something. This takes place during Big Boss' comatose, when Diamond Dogs was run solely by Miller and Ocelot. 1981, to be exact. Enjoy!))

"A friend to your Boss- I'm sure he's mentioned him before."

"He's known Snake for quite a while."

"Ten years longer than you."

---

"Kaz."

"It's /Miller/," his voice cut through the darkness like a match being struck to life by a heavy and bitter hand. "Six years now, and you still can't get that right."

"Six years and you still haven't given up on trying to correct me," the lights were cut on by a carefree hand, revealing the man who chose to make his taunting retort whilst lingering in the doorway. His lips were drawn back in a satisfied sneer, and his spindly locks of silvery hair perfectly framed his overconfidence as he spoke. "Now, believe it or not, I came here on business far more important than being scolded by the likes of you, /Kazuhira/."

"Miller," he ignored the man's foreshadowing of importance, going so far as to deny him the simplest of pleasures from a brief moment of eye contact. "Now, /believe it or not/, unless John is awake, I don't really care what you have to say. So get it right or get out of my office."

"Oh, so he let you call him John /too/, huh?"

"Excuse me?" It was only then that Miller would bring his shaded eyes to meet Ocelot's, but the spark of visible rage was seen even beneath the amber frosted lenses.

"You must've heard me, Kaz..." Ocelot mocked a coy and bashful tone as he took an assertive step into the room, though the cinematic attitude quickly bled away to the truest of smirks as he braced his gloved hands on either side of Miller's desk, leaning in with devilish intent. "/John/, that's what you called him. I didn't know he extended that olive branch to anyone- other than myself, of course."

Miller, with what quickly fading resolve he had, reached up a hand to unsheathe his critical and electrifying blue-eyed glare. His leather-bound grasp strained against his self-restraint, his nails threatening to make indentions in his own crossed arms should he try to hold himself back any longer.

"He really mustn't have told you about me, huh?" Tilting his head to the side and toying with a small frown, the man pretended to be hurt that he'd never been spoken of. "Well don't worry Kaz, I'll tell you everything you need to know. Like how I knew him before the eyepatch. Heh, you think he's something now-- you should've seen him then. His eyes dazzled like precious jewels in the perfect light of the Russian jungle. I loved them so much..."

He took a deep breath as the last chords of Miller's patience dared to snap. He let the tension marinate, taking full sadistic pleasure in every bitter second that passed between them.

"I couldn't help to take one of them for myself."

Miller's attempts at controlling himself all dissolved in a single heartbeat, and the next his fist connected solidly with Ocelot's nose. The man staggered and after drawing his hand away from the point of contact displayed a steady stream of crimson from his nostrils, but the blow had obviously been anticipated. His only response was to laugh before snatching Kaz by the collar, jeering him forward and snarling mere inches from his face.

"How can you love a man when you haven't once looked him in the eyes, Kaz?"

He didn't give him another chance to snap. Delivering a sharp jab to his stomach, Ocelot chuckled calmly as he proceeded to deflect the man's retaliation. Blood from his nose dripped into the small crevices of his maniacal grin, now lingering unbothered as he invited Kaz to make another move.

Miller was careful not to underestimate the man after the display, but perhaps Ocelot underestimated him. Jumping the gun, Ocelot reacted to the blow Kaz first moved to make, which in truth was simply a ruse. Before Ocelot could correct his error, he'd be given a merciless elbow to the jaw and a ruthless follow-up the second he dared to realign his head.

He'd been dancing around petulant matters before, perhaps even boyishly, but these two heavy hits made things surprisingly personal. How dare John replace him with a man such as this? Such nerve, such ferocity. Ignited with his own and eager to see the man before him break, he traded a few light hits to get acclimated to the sensation that riveted through his whole body each time he struck the man- but then things quickly escalated. He caught Miller's sloppy jab and proceeded to hyperextend his arm, pulling until the sound of his unwilling cry shifted him back into reality.

Not a breath later, he drew him near only to kick him away, sending him flying into the desk the conflict had risen from. His weight easily tore through it, though in trying to will himself to stand Kaz was woefully met by the toe of Ocelot's boot burrowing itself deep into his rib cage. Upon drawing it away, the man above him found absolute euphoria in dragging the pristinely sharpened spur on his heel down a jagged trail along Miller's torso. Miller tore into his lip as his flesh was severed, but even so he couldn't help breaking his prideful vigil to release an agonizing shout, collapsing against the pile of severed planks beneath him.

"Kaz, I know there's no way you possibly could've- but you should've known better than to go and do that..." Ocelot scolded, admiring the vermillion that bubbled from the chasm he'd cut into the man. "John wouldn't be very happy with you, right now. How do you aim to carry on his legacy when you're in a puddle of your own blood?"

"It's... Miller..." he groaned lightly, struggling to prop himself up against what splinters remained of his previously meticulously organized desk. He wiped away what blood he could, but ultimately ended up making a bigger mess of himself. Squaring his shoulders with dignity he had, he motivated himself with the obvious tiredness in Ocelot's tone, and the small bend now visible in his still bleeding nose. "I'm not carrying anything. I'm simply holding onto it for him until he wakes up again. You're just mad that it's in my hands and not yours."

"Phrase it however you like, you clearly aren't worthy," Ocelot's smirk faltered but he didn't miss a beat. "When he wakes up, he'll take his legacy back, alright. But when he's gone, and I mean for good-- he'll leave it with me. Enjoy it while you can, /Miller/."