The Next Best Thing
folder
Fullmetal Alchemist › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
2,356
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fullmetal Alchemist › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
2,356
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
11
There had to be something more embarrassing than borrowing one of your commanding officers spare uniforms. There had to be. But, as Havoc realized his shoulders were far broader than Mustang’s, not to mention his legs a bit longer, he was hard pressed to come up with a good example.
That and the damn thing smelled like Mustang’s cologne, with a hint of ozone and sulfur. Wonderful. He was going to wander around all day without a dress jacket, in what looked to be a high-water version of the usual slacks and a shirt that seemed to show off ever hair on his chest, while smelling like a brothel that was on fire.
Fantastic.
Maybe someone would laugh and give him an excuse to throw a punch. Nothing got rid of tension and aggravation like some good old violence.
It would be a nice change, after all, him taking out his aggression and frustration on someone else. it got old, being the target all the time. The victim. But like any good victim he was wonderful at freezing as soon as he saw the source of his torment.
Which made him, a usually easygoing, confident individual very, very unhappy. Hence the desire to hit something. Hard. With great enthusiasm.
That and his mouth still tasted like a mix between toothpaste, booze, and bile, and he wasn’t quite sure which were his originally, which he had picked up frantically kissing Mustang while soaking wet, after an embarrassing mental breakdown.
‘Being at work is all well and good, but damn, if I could find a nice sized rock to curl under for, oh, the next thirty years or so…’ Havoc awkwardly shifted his foot around in a damp boot, try to work at an itch. ‘Soggy boots. Ma never did tell me things would get this shitty.’ Havoc gnawed compulsively on the toothpick he had clenched between his teeth.
He had kicked the nic addiction, but there was something so very difficult about kicking the accompanying oral fixation. ‘I’m sure there is a sick joke in there somewhere…but seeing as the things I have had in my mouth the past few weeks…well, it wouldn’t be much of a joke, really.’
Resignation. It tasted enough like ash he could almost pretend he was gnawing on one of his smokes, flippantly keeping the cig unlit just long enough for Hawkeye to wander off on some errand or another…
“Lieutenant?”
Crap, if only Mustang could at least try to sound his usual nonchalant…Havoc fixed pursed lips into a thin smile and turned, sketching a quick salute in an attempt to restore a sort of professional distance between himself and the man he had spent a good portion of the morning kissing like a desperate whore.
Havoc had never wanted to know how soft Mustang’s skin was, how much those cheeks would flush, right along the cheekbone before spreading almost down his throat…chest…how that chest would shudder with ragged breathing…
Hell, he didn’t pay that much attention to the women he dated.
Well, he had never had such an intense…
‘Stress. Product of stress. Nothing more. I sure as hell am not thinking about kissing that bastard again. Jean Havoc is not attracted to men.’
Mustang ran a hand through his hair nervously and Havoc realized he had been staring.
‘Jean Havoc is not attracted to men, though he just might have a bit of a curious…a soft spot for one Roy Mustang.’ Defeat tasted oddly like cheap booze, with a shot of bitterly quashed denial tossed down as a chaser. It wasn’t helping matters that Mustang looked so uncharacteristically off balance. Unsettled. It interested the part of his brain that had been battered past redemption, the victim looking to get a bit of its own back. It scented weakness and wanted to play.
“Is there anything wrong, Lieutenant?”
Wrong? Of course not. Nothing at all. Apart from the fact his pulse had jumped to erratic heart attack mode and his mouth was as dry as if he had woke up still a bit drunk. “Nothing, sir. Just had a…long night.”
To Mustang’s credit, he didn’t even twitch at the overtones Havoc slipped into that deceptively casual statement. “Well, if there is anything…?”
Havoc was pretty sure Mustang did not want the answer to his polite offer, seeing as Havoc was unhappy it had crossed his mind.
Well, less crossed. More like it had unpacked, filled the fridge with booze and made itself comfortable on the sofa. “Ah, I will keep that in mind. Sir.”
That and the damn thing smelled like Mustang’s cologne, with a hint of ozone and sulfur. Wonderful. He was going to wander around all day without a dress jacket, in what looked to be a high-water version of the usual slacks and a shirt that seemed to show off ever hair on his chest, while smelling like a brothel that was on fire.
Fantastic.
Maybe someone would laugh and give him an excuse to throw a punch. Nothing got rid of tension and aggravation like some good old violence.
It would be a nice change, after all, him taking out his aggression and frustration on someone else. it got old, being the target all the time. The victim. But like any good victim he was wonderful at freezing as soon as he saw the source of his torment.
Which made him, a usually easygoing, confident individual very, very unhappy. Hence the desire to hit something. Hard. With great enthusiasm.
That and his mouth still tasted like a mix between toothpaste, booze, and bile, and he wasn’t quite sure which were his originally, which he had picked up frantically kissing Mustang while soaking wet, after an embarrassing mental breakdown.
‘Being at work is all well and good, but damn, if I could find a nice sized rock to curl under for, oh, the next thirty years or so…’ Havoc awkwardly shifted his foot around in a damp boot, try to work at an itch. ‘Soggy boots. Ma never did tell me things would get this shitty.’ Havoc gnawed compulsively on the toothpick he had clenched between his teeth.
He had kicked the nic addiction, but there was something so very difficult about kicking the accompanying oral fixation. ‘I’m sure there is a sick joke in there somewhere…but seeing as the things I have had in my mouth the past few weeks…well, it wouldn’t be much of a joke, really.’
Resignation. It tasted enough like ash he could almost pretend he was gnawing on one of his smokes, flippantly keeping the cig unlit just long enough for Hawkeye to wander off on some errand or another…
“Lieutenant?”
Crap, if only Mustang could at least try to sound his usual nonchalant…Havoc fixed pursed lips into a thin smile and turned, sketching a quick salute in an attempt to restore a sort of professional distance between himself and the man he had spent a good portion of the morning kissing like a desperate whore.
Havoc had never wanted to know how soft Mustang’s skin was, how much those cheeks would flush, right along the cheekbone before spreading almost down his throat…chest…how that chest would shudder with ragged breathing…
Hell, he didn’t pay that much attention to the women he dated.
Well, he had never had such an intense…
‘Stress. Product of stress. Nothing more. I sure as hell am not thinking about kissing that bastard again. Jean Havoc is not attracted to men.’
Mustang ran a hand through his hair nervously and Havoc realized he had been staring.
‘Jean Havoc is not attracted to men, though he just might have a bit of a curious…a soft spot for one Roy Mustang.’ Defeat tasted oddly like cheap booze, with a shot of bitterly quashed denial tossed down as a chaser. It wasn’t helping matters that Mustang looked so uncharacteristically off balance. Unsettled. It interested the part of his brain that had been battered past redemption, the victim looking to get a bit of its own back. It scented weakness and wanted to play.
“Is there anything wrong, Lieutenant?”
Wrong? Of course not. Nothing at all. Apart from the fact his pulse had jumped to erratic heart attack mode and his mouth was as dry as if he had woke up still a bit drunk. “Nothing, sir. Just had a…long night.”
To Mustang’s credit, he didn’t even twitch at the overtones Havoc slipped into that deceptively casual statement. “Well, if there is anything…?”
Havoc was pretty sure Mustang did not want the answer to his polite offer, seeing as Havoc was unhappy it had crossed his mind.
Well, less crossed. More like it had unpacked, filled the fridge with booze and made itself comfortable on the sofa. “Ah, I will keep that in mind. Sir.”