Disclaimer- I don't own FMA or any of its characters. It would be cool if I did, but I don't. Imagine all the fun I could have with the storyline if I did though!
Never a Good Idea
Living with your superior officer was never the best idea, under any circumstances. But Kimbley really had no choice. With just one dorm under repair, the others were packed with no room to spare for a back-from-the-grave recruit. And that's how he ended up living in lt. colonel Frank Archer's small, one-floor house.
With lt. colonel Frank Archer.
However, at the moment, Archer wasn't home. He was at headquarters and Kimbley had no idea when he'd be back nor did Kimbley really care. The alchemist would officially take up his military duties three days from now, on Monday. He had three days to relax. Or relax as much as he possibly could with the thought of a pissed off Greed hunting him down at the edge of his mind.
The Crimson Alchemist was taking his time wandering his new home. There was a small kitchen and dining area in the corner of the largest room which also served as a living room. He walked into the back hall that branched off into three rooms. The door closest to the living room led off into a barren bedroom (Probably mine, thought Kimbley). On the opposite wall was the door that led to the bathroom (Just one? Hope we don't have the same shifts…unless he doesn't mind showering while I'm using the mirror. My hair can take quite awhile sometimes). The third door, the one farthest back, opened into a bedroom much more lushly furnished than the other.
So this must be his.
It was bad manners to go through someone's room, but Kimbley couldn't help himself. He hadn't seen any other side of his roommate than Archer's stoic, business-like manner. An open closet revealed an impressive collection of clothes, most of them dark. There was a mostly full bookshelf in the corner, a few newspapers stacked between it and the wall. A desk was in the opposite corner, beneath the window. Sunlight streamed across its surface, shedding light on stacks of papers, some pens and pencils, a book, and an alarm clock. Between the desk and the bookcase stood the bed. It was a good-sized bed, two pillows with a lush comforter thrown over it. It was already made. Indeed, everything about the room seemed to scream organization.
Kimbley smirked and shut the door.
The warm water coursed over his body, running down from the shining silver showerhead. Kimbley tipped his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the water run over his eyelids in tiny rivulets.
This…This was nice. One thing he'd missed the most during his stay in prison was a good shower. Sure, it had felt great when he finally got a shower at the Devil's Nest, but it most definitely hadn't been the perfect shower he had been imagining. But this…plenty of light to see by, clean curtains, clean walls, no grime already caked on the soap bar from the chimeras, and all the hot water he could possibly need. And shampoo.
He'll probably want a shower when he gets back…he'll be pissed if I take all the hot water.
Kimbley rinsed off his hair one last time before shutting off the water. His wet skin reacted violently to the sudden exposure to the cold air; a giant shiver wracked his body. He jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel practically before his feet touched the floor. He toweled off and rubbed his head—he would spend more time drying his hair later. The bathroom was small, roughly the same, roughly the same shape of his cell. Small rooms like this still made him nervous, though he would never show it.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, the alchemist grabbed another dry towel from the rack on his way out the door. As he stepped into the hallway, he heard a rustling sound coming from Archer's room. Did I not hear him when he came in? Kimbley thought. He changed his course from his room to the lt. colonel's.
Frank stood with his back to the open door. He had been home long enough to change out of his military uniform and into jeans and a dark gray muscle shirt with short sleeves. He was definitely more trim and well-built than Kimbley had imagined, far from the image of the stereotypical pale guy. Not as muscular as Greed, but still…nonetheless…
Kimbley wouldn't deny that he had been "involved" with Greed. While one's in prison, the body begins to hunger for more than just food. And it wasn't that Kimbley was gay—if he was attracted by someone, it didn't matter if that person was man or woman. He simply liked what he liked. And he was attracted to Frank Archer—the fact that Archer was human (albeit a cold one) made the officer even more appealing. Even though Greed was human in appearance, speech, and attitude, he wasn't a human…he was a homunculus and Kimbley could never get that thought out of his mind.
And Archer was completely human.
"You really should announce your presence when you're standing behind someone."
The lt. colonel's voice snapped Kimbley out of his thoughts. The pale, dark-haired man turned around to face the alchemist as he shrugged on a dark blue button-down shirt. He left the shirt open, showing off the gray shirt the clung to his chest. As Archer passed Kimbley on his way out the door, he glanced over him.
"Go dry off, you're dripping all over my carpet."
End of Chapter One
I wrote this during a very boring Chemistry class. If you like the idea, please let me know and I'll work on continuing it. There really isn't enough Kimbley/Archer fics out there. Oh, and it won't always be just "romance"…I also intend it to be humorous too. Let's face it, both of them have different lifestyles so they're bound to clash over small stuff.