A/N: So this pairing was dreamed up by me and Timon x3 and I just had to write it. It came out a bit more... depressing than I originally intended, but somehow as soon as I wrote those two words it wasn't going to go any other way. You'll realise what two words I mean don't worry.

DISCLAIMER : I do not own Alex Rider - or Fox or Snake - as much as I wish otherwise.

***

Snake was off duty, and enjoying it by doing nothing at all. He simply sat on his faded sofa watching some soap he had never really followed on the TV. And holding a beer in his hand. Don't forget the beer.

He wasn't expecting visitors, he didn't really want visitors, but he was too tired to be surprised when there was a resounding bang on the door. The knocking continued, slowly dragging him from his stupor with its frenzied desperation.

Slowly he heaved himself up from the sofa and walked to the door, his muscles cramping with tiredness. He pulled open the door.

"Ben?!"

It had been a year since he had seen his former team mate, when he had come to tell them he was joining Special Ops. There had been sporadic emails, but no mention of meeting up.

But it wasn't Fox's sudden appearance that had startled him, it was the look of pain on his face, and the fear buried deep within his haunted blue eyes.

"God, mate, what's wrong?!" exclaimed Snake.

Fox opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He raised a hand, but let it fall in a gesture of defeat.

Snake opened the door wider and pulled his friend through. He sat him on the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back it was with a bottle of deep amber liquid and a small glass. Fox took the glass in his shaking hands and Snake filled it to the brim. Fox knocked it back and held out the glass again. He had perhaps four shots before the shaking subsided.

"Gods, Snake," he muttered. "You're a life saver."

Snake sat down next to him and refilled the glass. Fox sipped it slowly.

"So you going to tell me what's wrong?" asked Snake finally.

Fox grimaced and threw back the rest of his glass. Automatically, Snake refilled it.

"You remember Cub?" asked Fox suddenly, his voice hoarse from a mix of strong liquor and pain.

Snake nodded. How could he forget?

"He's dead," said Fox, his voice flat and emotionless, as if trying to convince himself that it didn't hurt.

"What?" asked Snake, confused. "How...?" He didn't mean how did he die, he meant how could MI6 let this happen? How could they let a teenager die for them?

"He took a bullet for me... by rights it should be me... should be my funeral tomorrow... but no... it's his... and I'm going to have to tell his guardian what really happened, 'cause MI6 sure as hell won't... you should have heard him talk about her... she was more like a sister to him... and I have to go and tell her... Have you ever had to tell someone how their younger brother – their kid of a brother – died? How it's your fault that he's dead?" Fox trailed off, and necked another glass of whiskey.

"His first kill was before his first kiss... how messed up is that? Hell, I don't think that he had even had a proper girlfriend..."

"He was too young to die," said Snake, comfortingly.

Fox rounded on him his eyes wide and angry and deadly serious. "You're never too young to die. That's what they told him – again and again and again. You're never too young to die... they sent him on mission after suicidal mission..."

Some of the fury left Fox's shoulders as he spoke and he slumped. His hands, once clenching Snake's shirt threateningly, now seemed to be clutching desperately for support as his head dropped onto Snake's shoulder. Snake was shocked to hear the heavy, choked sobs that came from his friend's mouth.

"Ok," began Snake, "I think it's time for you to get to bed."

He hoisted his team mate to his feet and began to lead him through to the bedroom. There was no question about Fox trying to find his way home in this condition.

He staggered under the weight and was grateful to deposit his load on the bed. He carefully removed Fox's jacket and coaxed him into removing his trousers. He would sleep more comfortably in boxers and T-shirt. Fox lay down without protest, and Snake turned to leave.

A hand on his wrist stopped him. He turned back to find Fox staring at him with those tormented blue eyes, begging not to be left alone.

Snake sighed and settled himself carefully on the other side of the bed, Fox's hand still clenched tight around his wrist, and turned off the light.

In the dark silence, Snake could hear Fox's ragged breathing though thankfully the other man had stopped crying.

Suddenly out of the dark, Fox's lips crashed down on his. Snake started at the sudden movement and Fox pulled back. Snake could sense the tension in his body, the need to be close to someone, to feel connected, the fear of rejection. He could feel those blue eyes locked on his, even in the darkened room.

He kissed him back.

The kiss was slow and deep and somehow desperate. It was a lifeline, something stopping Fox from slipping away into the darkness of nightmares.

Snake gasped as he felt a hand on his belt.

"Please..." came Fox's hoarse voice.

Snake let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. He ran a hand over Fox's well muscled shoulders, biting his lip. It took him all of a moment to decide.

***

What they did that night... Snake didn't know how to describe it.

He could feel Fox come back to life under his hands, and if it wasn't Snake's name that Fox called out, he could understand. Maybe Fox shouldn't have been involved with him but Snake wasn't going to judge, not now. Fox was going through enough.

When they had finally collapsed, exhausted, on the bed, Snake turned onto his back.

"You loved him," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Did you ever...?"

"Tell him? No. I didn't. I couldn't... and now..." his voice broke and he paused, taking a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "And now it's too late."

Snake reached out a hand and rubbed his shoulder. "It's ok, mate," he said comfortingly.

"Really?" asked Fox, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "How did you work that one out?" his voice turned bitter. "How is it ok? How is it ever going to be ok?"

Snake sighed. "Ok, so maybe it isn't right now. But it will be, I promise."

Fox sniffed, trying – fairly successfully – to keep tears at bay, and curled up towards Snake.

"Really?"

"I promised, didn't I?" said Snake, gently, pressing a kiss to Fox's dark hair.

Now, hours later, Snake looked over at Fox. The moon had set long ago, but the starlight still shone silver on his face. He looked peaceful. The tense lines on his forehead had gone and his breathing was slow and regular. He murmured in his sleep, and Snake looked back at the ceiling, his lips tugging into a warm, caring smile. Fox would be fine.

There were many forms of love, reflected Snake. He recalled from some school assembly that the Ancient Greeks had had five words for love, perhaps they could define what he felt for Fox. It was love, but not love. It was the same deep connection he would feel for a brother, but somehow more... he was confused.

He smiled slightly as a lock of hair fell into Fox's eyes and the SAS soldier flicked his head in his sleep to get rid of it.

He looked back up at the ceiling. Whatever this was, for now it was enough for both of them.

***

A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me!