Title: Oh I know the silence was the loudest thing I ever heard
Pairing: Maes/Roy
Rated: PG-13
Comments: Something I’ve been meaning to finish for years ^^;; For fireun, with the prompt, “Oh I know the silence was the loudest thing I ever heard.” (I’m so original with titles, I know hehe ^^; ) And thank you, sutlers, for looking it over

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In the end, he settled for getting them luxury cruise tickets. Gracia had been dropping hints about it as a prospective honeymoon destination for months, and he knew Maes had been working overtime for just as long to afford the trip without having to dip into the money he’d been saving for a house. As best man, it would be a suitable gift. He would grit his teeth, wish them well, and send them off to start their marriage in style.

Roy locked his office before heading down the familiar corridors, dim save for the glow of the lampposts just outside the windows. As he’d expected, light filtered through the cracks of Maes’s door, casting the floor tiles into warm relief. He knocked once before turning the knob and entering.

“Maes,” he said. A standing lamp tucked against the corner illuminated the man’s desk, which brimmed with papers and portraits. The man himself was absent. Roy shut the door behind him and moved toward the back of the office, where rows of bookshelves sectioned off the low light.

Maes was slouched against a bookshelf, half-hidden in the shadow between aisles. His head was bowed and an open book lay skewed in his lap.

“Maes,” he said again. “Maes.” He crouched and nudged the man’s shoulder.

Maes grunted, head lolling to the side before turning toward him. Half-lidded eyes squinted up at Roy. His glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose.

“Roy?” he said, voice rough with drowsiness.

“Late night, I see,” Roy said. He closed the book in Maes’s lap and set it aside before reaching for Maes’s arm and tugging him to his feet.

“What time is it?” Maes asked. He removed his glasses and tucked them into his coat pocket.

“Just after midnight.”

Maes followed him back to his desk, arching his spine to stretch cramped muscles and rubbing his eyes to clear away the lethargy. Roy watched him move about his desk, putting things away and straightening a picture frame at the corner. Roy knew it to be of Gracia, smiling and waving from beside a statue of the Fuhrer.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep. I need to get home.”

Home. Roy imagined the narrow walls and cluttered pictures tacked to the corkboard of Maes’s old dormitory, despite that it had stood vacant for the better part of the year. Maes had moved into Gracia’s townhouse, but had yet to put in the paperwork for an official address change. They were in the market for a house—nothing excessive, but more spacious than their current living space. Something suitable for a family.

“I’ll drive you,” Roy said. Tucking his hands into his coat pockets, he leaned back against the door, head cocked.

Maes put the last stack of documents into a drawer before reaching for his coat. He paused, his hand resting on the knobby coat hook. “The dorms are closer. It’s late. Maybe I should just spend the night there.”

Roy’s hands fisted in his pockets. A tight smile drew the corners of his mouth. “You could.” Then he added, “But Gracia is probably waiting for you.”

Maes closed his eyes, just briefly, eyelashes fluttering in the dim light of the corner lamp. “I’ll call her.”

Roy straightened and turned, reaching for the doorknob. A hand stretched past him, palm lying flat against the wood.

“Maes,” Roy said, disapproval sharp in the space between them. Despite this, a second hand slid along the seam of his jacket, fingers creeping by inches along the thick wool until a warm hand pressed against his stomach.

Don’t, he wanted to say. Instead, he remained still as Maes shifted closer and dragged his nose through Roy’s hair, just behind his left ear. Nudging aside the collar of Roy’s coat, Maes’s lips settled against the side of his neck, warm and dry, a simple meeting of skin against skin. Roy felt his head spin.

Fingers danced along the front of his coat, releasing buttons and pushing aside layers. He shuddered against the body at his back, limbs seized.

“Tell me no,” Maes whispered, even as he parted Roy’s shirt, cool air breathing against his bared skin.

Roy shook his head, the barest of gestures, and couldn’t say whether or not it was in compliance of Maes’s command, or in denial of it. But Maes seemed to understand because he slipped a thigh between Roy’s legs. Roy clenched his jaw, tried to breathe past the way his lungs constricted as fingers traced lazy patterns down his stomach.

A jerk of his elbow or a single word, and Maes would back off, would go back to the woman waiting up for him, the woman who wore his ring on her hand. But Roy knew it’d be little more than a reprieve, another extended pause between a string of silent expectations. Just another second to regroup and watch his defenses scatter all over again.

So instead he let the guilt fill the holes in his chest and turned his head to slide his mouth along the corner of Maes’s lips.