ruffians | if i crash on the couch, can i sleep in my clothes

Raiden doesn't know why he's here.

Doesn't know how he got here, if he's truthful, how he even found the place. Maybe Snake told him? Maybe he called? He can't remember. Everything over this last year is a blur, a barely-real haze of violence and drunkenness broken up hangovers and arguments. He'd say he doesn't know who he is anymore, but that depends on him ever having known. Considering the two constants in his life seem to be lies and loss, it shouldn't be any surprise he can't figure this shit out.

It's cold here too. Because of course Snake would live in the middle of nowhere where it's freezing and Raiden has to wear three sweaters and a heavy jacket just so he doesn't feel like his lungs are turning to ice.

By the time Raiden makes it to what he thinks is the right place, he's all but belligerently fighting the cold to keep a significant blood alcohol level with a near-empty flask, his shoes are soaked and he can't feel his toes, and it turns out fingerless gloves do shit all for keeping any warmth in your hands.

This sucks.

When he stops to knock the door, his upper body doesn't quite get the message, and he hits the door with a thump, but that's fine. It just gives him somewhere to lean while he bangs on the door impatiently while waiting for some kind of answer.

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His attempt to stop Snake taking the flask from him is more like uselessly flailing his hands with a protesting whine than anything close to putting up a fight. Probably because that's exactly what it is. He keeps reaching for it though, mumbling something about vodka until Snake's tone of voice makes him shrink into himself with a childishly sullen frown.

"I don't want water," he says, extremely petulant and barely intelligible. He wants his flask back, it'll help him sleep.

The amount of regression that Raiden exhibits while this drunk is almost alarming, but it shouldn't surprise Snake that much. This is a young man who never actually got to be a kid. Those formative years had been spent with a gun in hand, moving through warzones, taking lives because he didn't know enough to even know it was wrong. And even if he had known, would he have had any other choice?

It's why Snake finds he can't be that bothered by the way that Raiden's acting out. He just needs to get him horizontal and then he'll likely pass out within seconds. Along with the water, though, he's going to need to get him a change of clothes. Sleeping in damp clothing isn't going to help anything.

"I'll be right back," he insists, and then he disappears through a door into his room. Raiden's build is slighter than his, but he should still be able to fit into his clothes well enough, so he grabs a shirt and a pair of sweats. Then he stops by the kitchen, first dumping out the flask and then pouring Raiden a glass of water. He returns to the couch, handing Raiden the clothes first as he sets the glass down on the side table.

"You done whining?" he asks as he crosses his arms, looking Raiden up and down. His eyes can barely focus on anything, his hair's all over the place, and he's got at least a few stains on his jacket. Probably from a failed attempt at drinking from that flask. What a mess.

Something about Snake leaving the room sparks a panic in his chest, something he can't pinpoint the root of but he's certain it's his fault. It doesn't feel like somebody walking to another room in that moment, feels more like another person walking out because they're sick of him. Can't put up with it anymore. Who could anyway? It was stupid of him to expect Snake to be different.

His whole body is heavy, and when he moves to get up and stop Snake from leaving it feels like being stuck in quicksand, like there's some invisible force sucking him into the couch.

So it should come as no surprise that he's barely moved when Snake finally returns after minutes that feel far too long, and Raiden's expression brightens considerably as if it wasn't just five minutes ago he was willing to fight Snake to keep his flask. Right now he just feels the acute relief of not being abandoned, something that shows on his face as he struggles to focus.

"You came back," he mumbles, giving a dazed look to the clothes and the water.

It really is no longer than five minutes, but that's enough time that Raiden isn't being over-stimulated and can start to come down from the drunken stupor he'd gotten himself into. There seems to be something more to it, though. You came back. Snake raises an eyebrow. What, did Raiden think he was going to escape out the window of his own apartment and run off somewhere to avoid dealing with him?

Not that Snake can expect drunk logic to make sense.

"Yeah, I did," he says quietly as nods to the glass of water. "Drink that. All of it, if you can. And change into those clothes. I'll wash the ones you're wearing in the morning."

Did he just imply that Solid Snake, legendary soldier and spy, does his own laundry? Possibly so.

if i crash on the couch, can i sleep in my clothes

7 months is a totally acceptable length of time between tags right

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