Chapter Text
It's 1:06 a.m when Raiden wakes up. He's in his room in the new headquarters Maverick set up shortly after he left, but they were kind enough to let him stay awhile until he figured out his new path. The room gifted to him is quite spacious, modern and comfortably clean. It even came with a marvelous view of the city the building is tucked into, and with his room being several floors high, he's almost eye level with most of the top of the sky scrapers. The lights provide a warm glow through the night, their colors spreading into the air like watercolor, its life surging as much as the people below. Shameful to admit it, but the bed given is just as good if not better than the view. It contours to Raiden's body perfectly, and it doesn't let his body get too overheated or too chilled, wonderful firmness too. He's learned that finding a bed that feels good even on his metal body is hard to come by. Shame he can't enjoy it, because he's too concentrated right now on the visitor that's taking a liking to staying on his balcony. Every. Single. Night. Like clockwork.
This has been going on for nearly two weeks now. At first Raiden was too baffled and confused to approach this… interesting development. Then he decided for a while to just ignore it, no harm being done. But now its just a little too fucking irritating. With an annoyed sigh and a small stretch to his legs, he figures tonight's the night to just kick this in the ass, get it over with. He swings his legs to the edge of the bed, jolts slightly when his feet touch the cold ground because he nearly forgot he had his synthetic skin on, the chill running through his body. Well, almost all his skin. The patch that makes his lower lip and fits his lower jaws and his neck was taken off. It had been damaged earlier in the day, much to Raiden's frustration. It had been an awful day already, and tearing his skin in a spot to where the patch had to be taken off completely for the Doktor to fix was the icing on top of the shit fest of a cake.
Raiden slides open the glass doors to the balcony once he reaches them, the warm air welcoming him out. With a thud the glass slides back into place. To the right, sitting in one of the lounging chairs, is Sam. Bastard. He's not in his armor, the only metal on him is his right arm prosthetic. He's wearing a thin white tank top and a pair of dark gray sweatpants, his hair is still tied and pulled back like usual, but a few more strands of hair hang loose than usual. Sam seems to be quite content, gazing out upon the night life of the city while he lounges lazily, his right elbow propped against the back of his chair, the other arm in his lap, while one leg stretches out to meet the railing of the balcony. Oh, you know, just enjoying the summer night, definitely not intruding on Raidens privacy. Doesn't even look up when Raiden steps onto the balcony with him.
It's suddenly a lot more warm than Raiden had prepared for, his skin already getting uncomfortably warm despite just being in some mid thigh length sleeping shorts. How the fuck Sam isnt melting in those sweats and shirt is a mystery. But come to find out Sam is a big mystery in general. Only two months after the cluster fuck with Armstrong and suddenly Maverick welcomes a new team member, one that shouldve been dead, one that Raiden stabbed and skewred with his own sword. And despite not being under Mavericks wing anymore, Raiden couldn't help but feel like he had to be involved, even though at the same time he really didn't want to. Seeing Sam alive after everything that happened had brought up a hell of a confusing cocktail of emotions, a main portion being anger, guilt, and surprisingly, relief. Underneath those, a thin trailing of sorrow. Of course, Raiden would never admit that. The abrupt news was enough to send him into a form of shock. Raiden had so many questions he wanted to ask Sam, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He's ignored him for a majority of the time so far, isolating and distancing himself. Sam has tried to prod at his isolation, teasing him, giving him a nudge on the shoulder if he dared to come close enough, sometimes even a simple nod in his direction if they saw each other in passing. But Raiden wouldn't budge, set on not giving Sam his time even though he wants to so badly it almost hurts- because… Sam doesn't seem like that bad of a guy, truly, especially after the message he left on his Murasama.
“There's plenty of other balconies to sit on. I'm pretty sure your room has one itself.”
Sam doesn't reply at first, but after a beat he just shrugs, rolls his shoulders as if restless. “This one has the best view.” He still stares off into the distance, dissecting the city skyline with intensity.
Raiden steps towards the chairs, hand coming to land on the top of one as he studies Sam closer. He can't help but notice that there's circles underneath his lower lashes, as if he hadn't been sleeping well.
“That so? If I recall correctly, your room is only two floors above mine.”
“This one is different.”
“... Gonna elaborate?”
A small smirk tugs at Sam's lips. He finally looks over at Raiden, giving him a warm smile as their eyes meet. Something tightens in Raidens core. “Like I said,” Sam continues, letting his leg fall from its perch to land back in front of him. He moves his elbows to let them rest on his knees. “ This one just has a better view. No shame in enjoying it.” Their eyes remain locked on each other a little longer before Sam nods towards the chair next to him that Raiden has his hand on. “ You should join me.”
Raiden's fingers curl under the hinge of the top lip of the chair. Loosens them only to tighten them again once more. Fuck it, he’ll bite. Raiden quietly moves around to the seat, realizes a bit too late after he's sat down that they are sitting quite close. But it's not terrible, Raiden can pick up on a very flattering scent Sams wearing, faint but strong enough to pick up on its notes; clean, masculine, a bit of citrus. It's calming, actually. Raiden relaxes slightly, shifting in his seat.
Minutes pass and neither of them say anything. They watch the city beyond together, watch as the endless sea of lights flicker and glow, as the noises from below fade out as it travels towards the vast darkness of the sky above. It's funny, Raiden thinks, that all the people seen down on the streets, walking aimlessly it seems, driving out till the stream of lights of their cars disappear, that their lives are as complex if not more than his own. So entwined with so many other threads of lives, an infinite web, each with its own unique complexity, vulnerability, experience. Yet he knows nothing of them, nor will they know of his. How can something so transcendent like be so quiet, so unseen?
He loses himself in thought, mindlessly skimming his fingers over a seam on his wrist. He wonders if Sam's life is as complex as his, what he's been through. Raiden supposes it matters not, in the end, it seems as though they have the same ideals, morals. He also wonders as to how it would've been like if everything would have ended differently. Would they still be here now? Would they still be sharing this silent, oddly intimate moment on the balcony? Would he still have those thoughts-
Raiden blinks himself out of it. Shut up, don't think about that. Especially when Sam is right next to him. It's not new behavior, however. No, even when they were on opposite sides, Raiden still caught himself thinking that Sam was a pretty attractive guy. Handsome face, nice body, excellent technique… Those hands are bound to be talented, quick and articulate, very skilled… Raiden asks himself a bit too often; How are they textured, how soft is the skin on his knuckles, the pads of his fingers, how far can he crook his wrist, how firm can he hold his hand over Raidens mouth to keep him quiet, how gentle would they be if they explored his skin, how hard can his grip be on his thighs and hips-
Shut. Up.
Sam lets out a small yawn, stretches his arms up above his head. Something pops.
“Tired?” Raiden asks, not daring himself to look over.
Sam makes an uncertain, questioning noise. “Only a little bit, but I have been up for a while now.” He lets his arms come back down. His flesh hand comes up to his chin, rubbing idly at his stubble. “I believe I've been up since… about three from yesterday morning?”
“Jesus, Sam,” Raiden turns slightly this time to give Sam a disappointing glare. “You've been up for almost twenty-four hours. Why? I'm pretty sure you didn't even leave the building today. I don't even think you had anything to do.”
Sam bites his lip, eyes still distant. “Yes and no. I had something to take care of, but it wasn't relevant to work.”
Raidens about to grill him further but stops himself. The look on Sam's face doesn't seem right, like something has been rubbing him the wrong way. Raiden observes as his eyes look dazed, lost but awake, alert. His hand is still smoothing over his chin and he doesn't miss the small bob his throat does as he swallows thickly, like he's nervous. It almost looks like hurt, something full of sorrow and worry. What had happened?
Raiden sighs small and silently. He changes the subject. “I'm still not satisfied with your earlier answer. There's no way you're just choosing my room to sight see. Im starting to think youre doing it just to fuck with me, its been going on for weeks now. Every night, too.” Raiden turns more in his seat, facing Sam more directly now. His chair gives a small whine under his shift in weight.
“What's going on? Look, I get it. Shit with Desperado and that whole shit show and then our fight,” Raiden pauses, continues. “But I feel like you're not telling me something.” He feels tension rise and break at the same time. Sam chuckles, but it's bitter and exhausted. He slouches forward slightly. With a deep inhale, Sam turns his head to meet Raidens gaze.
“Doktor told me about what happened earlier.”
It takes Raiden a moment, but once it clicks as to what Sams is referencing, he goes rigid.
His body has been acting up a lot lately. Sometimes its gears and pulls don't want to keep going, his intricate wiring refusing to transfer energy. His knees have locked up twice in the past month, his arm has gone completely dead once. Doktor was kind enough to still offer his services despite Raiden being on his own. Something about being close, bless his strange heart. After hours of wires being tugged and artificial muscles being prodded and reworked, everything would be back up and running. Until it would ultimately fail once again. Usually not even an hour after fixing.
Yesterday morning, when Doktor and Raiden were still awake, they decided to do more intrusive workings. Testing each system, soldering each wire perfectly, cleaning every crevice and running through everything once more until they find the problem as to why Raiden's body just refuses to work lately. They finish near 2:30 a.m, Doktor cleans Raiden and gets him situated to take his leave. Raiden takes a moment longer as he lays on the operating table, calming himself as he hears Doktor clean up, devices clinking, typing on a computer, Doktor rambling on about something. He can't really concentrate though. He opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, and notes that the blacks, grays and dull blues of the operating room seem really bright, too painful to look at. It hurts. And he feels strange, absolutely indescribable. Did something go wrong? A wire got switched, a set up didn't read back right? He wants to ask Doktor but he can't, he feels disembodied and trapped at the same time, his breathing treading on panic but he's having a hard time maintaining it. This doesn't feel right, he's had this before, it feels like-
Raiden hears his name, it's faint and distant. Some other muffled talking, but he can't tell who is who. His head is swimming as he tries to regain consciousness, his body slowly feels more intuned, no longer too close, no longer gone. Something wonderfully cool and damp settles on his forehead, and after a beat he wills his eyes to slide open. His vision is cloudy and warped with dark spots. He strains them, realizing that he's still looking up at the ceiling in the operating room. He sees a hand move the towel on his face gently. His hearing sluggishly registers.
“Raiden, can you hear me?” Doktor asks, concern in his voice.
It takes him a few seconds, suddenly talking seems like the biggest challenge in his life so far. He feels tingly and heavy. “Yeah,” Raiden croaks, voice barely above a whisper. He hears Doktor ask him if he wants water, and he can only manage out a noise of confirmation. Doktor stuffs what feels like a pillow underneath Raidens neck, propping him up a bit more. Doktor sets the edge of a cup on Raidens lips and he takes to it immediately, drenching his throat as though he just crawled through a desert, taking generous wells rhythmically. A lot of it flows into streams down Raidens neck, and, huh, strange. He could have swore he had his lower jaw and neck patch of skin on earlier. Without the flesh of his lower lip, it's a bit hard to keep all the water in his mouth, his metal jaw clicking loudly against the cup.
After Raiden practically drowns himself, he lets his head fall back onto the cushion and takes a deep breath.
“Are you alright, Raiden?”
Now that his throat doesn't feel like sandpaper, Raiden can reply a little bit more clearly.
“I think so?” Raiden mumbles, he rubs at the corner of his eyes. “What happened?”
He hears Doktor off to his left, scribbling down something frantically. “You had a seizure,” he says. “However, it zidnt last long. Two minutes andt fifty one seconds,” Doktor adds on quickly.
Raiden slowly processes his words. His face gets warm and annoyingly hot, his eyes sting. A seizure. He's had them before, but not too often. Perhaps two or three times in the past, nothing major. Something about how his mechanics in his body don't want to comply with his organic brain and sometimes vice versa. Sometimes the synapses in his brain just don't work correctly. Nothing he can control, he tries to remind himself. But its still so fucking infruiating. Because he feels as though he should be able to control his own damn body, that other people have to care for him because he's too weak or incompitent to maintain on his own. He goes to bite his lip but he can't, his teeth meet with crude metal.
He's so irritated. Embarrassed. Ashamed.
“You bit down on your lower lip during your episode. It was torn, so I had to remove it. Worry not, zough,” Doktor says, still a bit frantic.
Raiden covers his eyes with his wrist, covering the wetness building up. His thoughts are starting to spiral. Fuck.
“I'll have it fixed within the next two days.”
Raiden tries to not let his voice sound too sharp and bitter when he asks, “Why the hell did he tell you? Thats not your fucking problem.” So much for trying.
Sam's brow furrows, his look is as offensive as Raidens. Smug bastard, like he should know Raiden inside and out like that. “Because I wanted to know.”
“For what fucking reason? ” Raiden snarls, sitting straight up now, eyes piercing Sams, but it's ineffective. Probably a good thing his sword is locked up in his personal shelf and tucked inside right now. “Is that what you've been occupied with the last two weeks? Getting all up in my shit? Coming to my deck just to fucking rub it in?” Raidens starting to ramble on, worked up. He goes on into more of his personal life, more so than his seizure episode to the point where half of his arguments aren't particularly logical nor connected to the initial conversation's core.
And Sam still just sits in his seat, calm. He lets Raiden go on probably longer than what he should. Minutes go on, and it seems like Raiden is digging up every single irritation from his past, every thing that keeps him up at night, haunts him during the day. Sam is surprised that Raidens managing to keep himself in his seat at this point, but his mouth is moving quickly and his hands are moving near the same speed with various gestures. This is probably dangerous, letting Raiden go on like this. But something in the back of Sam's head tells him that this is probably good for him, letting everything out. Raidens at the point where he's not even talking about Sam or the incident yesterday morning anymore.
“It just-,” Raiden reaches the end of his ranting, eyes coming back into focus, trying to find the right words. “It just fucking sucks. ” His voice betrays him, cracking on the last word. The tears welled in his eyes are threatening to overflow, but he keeps them still. He goes rigid as his mind goes blank, and he turns away from Sam's gaze.
It goes quiet again. The noise of the city continues as always, unrelenting even through the sorrow of others, stopping for no one. A small, humid breeze bristles itself in between the buildings, the sensation smoothing on their skin. Loud enough to tense both them up, an annoyingly loud rev of an engine down below on their street. Fuck that guy in particular.
Sams unsure of how to approach this, what to say, what to do. Raiden just spilled up almost all of his past at the expense of him being upset by what Sam did. He's not even sure if Raiden realized that he had spiraled in the first place. Best option to not bring that up, he's not sure as to how Raiden would react if he asked if all that was intended or not. Either way, whether or not Raiden had subconsciously decided to share those things, Sam's chest hurts all the same. It's not going to be easy to admit this, any of this on both their parts.
“I wasn't doing any of this to make you feel bad,” Sam says lowly, trying not to rustle Raiden up too much.
Raiden hesitates. “You already did, asshole,” he spits.
Sam snaps. Fuck this. Time to get to it.
“ Listen to me,” Sam grits out, putting enough demand into it that Raiden is forced to look at him again. Raiden keeps quiet.
“I have not been able to get you off my mind since I met you,” Sam starts, he swallows. He's certain this might get rough. “At first it was just fascination, you fought well and you had this…” Sam makes a short hand gesture, trying to find the right word in english. “You had this certain thing about you. I- I can't explain it. I don't know if it was the way you fought, the way you looked… Maybe it was because we had the same morals. The same way of life. Yet we had to fight.”
Sam meets Raiden's eyes briefly. He doesn't miss how struck Raiden looks. There's no point in beating around the bush now. He continues.
“I faked that death, Raiden. Before you showed up, Wolf and I talked it over. He agreed that he would help convince you that I was dead. Made it look like my vitals were shutting down. You still gave me quite the scar, though. Hurt like a son of a bitch,” Sam chuckles, but its not of amusement. His hand subconsciously drops down to skim his abdomen through his shirt, feeling the raised tissue of the scar. Its still a bit sensitive.
“I wanted to start over again. I wanted to put all that stupid shit behind me and forget about all of it. Everything and everyone. But,” Sam stops for a moment, and he turns this time, looks at Raiden. Their eyes meet once more, but this time their gaze locks. “I couldn't forget about you. Maybe that's what drove me here, to Maverick. I know you'd be on your own path, but I guess I thought that perhaps this way, I'd get to see you again.”
Raiden remains silent.
“There's… a lot of complications in this,” Sam breathes, doing another nervous laugh. “But when I got here, I saw that you were here… I just - I had this need, this urge to make sure that you were alright. And I know, I know that sounds stupid , but I couldnt help it. When something is on your mind that much, it's hard not to care for it.” They both search each other's face for a moment, observing.
When Sam continues, his voice drops, near a whisper. “Doktor told me what happened because he knew that I had worried about you. He had told me that something was up for the past couple weeks. And then last morning…” Sam smiles, almost in denial. It's painful to look at, and Raidens own throat starts to clog up at the sight of Sam's own eyes seeming to get damp themselves. “I had been so fucking worried. I've been coming to your balcony for quite some time, but since yesterday, I couldn't even sleep. I worry about you so much it hurts, it pains me in the best way possible.” Sam spits those words breathlily, like it's the only way they'll come out.
“Despite everything I've been through, despite not knowing what to do with my life besides throwing it away, I still always had thoughts of you. You're the only thing I've cared about through all of it. And sometimes I question it, I truly do. Because you and I barely even know each other. The only things we know is the blood we spilled and the war we fought. But yet I feel as though I've known you forever. Like I have loved you forever.”
Raiden wills himself to keep a straight face but it's not working in his favor. He lets in a silent gasp of air as he feels a tear trail down his left cheek. It drips off his face quickly, landing in his lap.
“That's why I'm on your balcony, Raiden. That's why I keep coming back.”
They're both stunned silent once more, Raiden from Sam's words and Sam from the giant weight lifted off his shoulders. They stare, transfixed. Sam moves slightly to his side, closer to Raiden. Slowly, slow enough to give Raiden enough notice, enough time to back out, he leans, closing the distance.
Raiden leans in hesitantly, but quickly jolts back slightly, putting a hand to Sam's chest.
“I- I, um, don't exactly have a full pair of lips right now. That probably wouldn't be a great kiss,” Raiden stutters out, his voice still wavering from the burn in his throat. He wants to kiss him so badly, his insides twisting up from anticipation, but he can't bear the thought of embarrassing himself because he can't kiss right.
Sams looks over Raidens upper lip and jaw, observes how soft his thin upper lip looks and his bottom jaw, how the neon lights from the city reflect off of it. It's actually kind of cute to see the metal bottom row of his teeth. Metal or skin, it's still Raiden.
“I don't mind,” Sam's last words as he takes his hand to come up behind Raiden, landing on the back of his neck to push him closer. Raiden falls into it without resistance.
Europhoic does nothing to describe the feeling rushing through Raidens veins as his lips meet Sams. His body shivers, melts into Sam's touch as his lips slide along his, as the hand on the back of his neck keeps him grounded. He feels another hand come down to the top of his thigh, giving it a small compress. Raidens still star struck that he doesn't move his hands quite yet. One of them is still on the arm of the chair he's sitting in, it clutches tightly to the metal.
Sam's lips are a little bit rough, but still prominent and wonderful to get lost in. Raiden already knows he’ll favor that scar that runs down his face, catching his upper lip. It provides a delightful texture, something unique. Sam's stubble pricks at him, but it's not bad, foreign but absolutely not unwelcome.
And Raiden wasn't lying about his jaw being awkward. It makes the kiss feel half reciprocated physically, Raiden's top lip trying to give it its all while trying to maintain his lower jaw to not accidentally bruise Sam's mouth. Its metal, however, is pleasantly cool against him, because all too suddenly the air got ten times thicker and a hundred percent more hotter.
Raiden's body shivers once more, overcome with too many emotions and sensations. The city surrounding them means nothing, its beauty and life unparalleled to their moment. They both pull away from each other, catching their breaths. However, it doesn't last long. Sam takes Raiden's chair and scoots him closer and maneuvers it so they are facing more head on. Satisfied, they meet once more. Lips locked, Sam takes his flesh hand to cup Raidens cheek, his thumb stroking the soft spot underneath Raidens ear. His metal hand returns to its place on the top of Raidens thigh. However, it's reaching up a bit higher than last time. Raiden, now a bit more soft, confident, lets his hands wander upwards, meets Sam's forearms, grazing them gently, every once in a while bringing them up to the biceps.
Minutes pass, both lost in the unrelenting waves of the addicting, drugging heat of their kiss. It gets more and more passionate and frantic by the second, both of them hellbent on stealing the breath out of the other's lungs. Sam takes the initiative to deepen it, his thumb crooking downwards to motion Raiden to open up his mouth a little bit more. Raiden obliges, letting out the sweetest compacted moan when Sam's tongue finds his.
Raidens hooked already, he's too deep into the kiss that the one voice in the back of his mind he's tried to shut up for months now speaks freely. He gasps through the side of his mouth as Sam claims him, as his mind wanders to indecent thoughts… he's had a bad couple of weeks and an even worse day, but suddenly none of that matters right now. No, not when the hand on his thigh slips to the inside from the top, not when Sam pushes himself impossibly deeper into the kiss, exploring Raidens mouth with such intensity and skill that it has Raiden almost trembling.
Sam's mouth has already proved to be far more than talented. What would those lips feel like on his neck, that tongue somewhere else? And fuck, fuck, his fingers and hands are just as firm and controlling as Raiden ever would dream they would be, keeping him in place but not completely dominating. Raiden makes a small whine in the back of his throat, that voice inside his head is running a thousand miles a second and is becoming so loud it's deafening. He wants Sam, he desperately wants him to-
They break away once more, a thin trail of wet connects their mouths but it quickly recedes. They pant softly, a fine film of sweat covers them both. The hot Nevada air isn't helping. Sam takes a deep breath, in and out, as he looks over Raiden. The hand on the inside of Raidens thigh squeezes one more, masasing, appreciative of its suppleness. His thumb rubs in circles over a seam there, its color akin to a scar on pale skin. Raiden can't help but shift his leg open a bit wider, inviting. It's pretty clear as to how this nights gonna go. Sleep is not important anyway, truly. Sam notices the leg twitch open and he arches his eyebrow, Raiden feels his blood scorch, his face burn.
He leans back, gives Raiden a smirk that shows off those perfect teeth, highlights that one sharp canine. Fuck.
When Sam speaks, it rolls through Raiden like a deep thunder, his voice is thick with lust and debauchery, it tastes so very sweet.
“Did you want to show me to your room?”